Reality Bubbles of Anonymous A

A New Year, A New Dream, A New Goal

2012-01-16T16:53:00.002-06:00

It's been a long time since I've written here. I've had a lot of things that required more time and attention than the time I spent writing, reading, or really anything else.
I've spent almost four years trying to gather myself, trying to re-realize who and what I am and what I'm capable of. It takes time, it's a process.
I have a wonderful job- I love my boss, and I like what I'm doing. It's taught me a lot, really, about things. It has restored some of the fight that I had in me. And it is teaching me about process. My sainted mom has been telling me since I was a child that I can't make everything happen overnight, that I need to be more patient, that I should respect that there is a process involved in everything. My motto this year is "Life is not an event, it is a process." I've been totally made and broken by living like it's an event- extreme highs and lows, a hallmark of my persona. I don't want that anymore, I haven't wanted that for a long time, and I think I've finally gotten it together well enough to have some real control over myself and the events that happen in the process of living.
Going to school isn't news- I've gone to school for years before establishing this blog, and have remained in school since. But now, I have a real concrete goal in mind: I'm going to get my business degree in economics and go to law school. It's a viable form for me to have peace with myself, have a career that I can enjoy and excel at, and it's a way that I can have the positive change that I want to have- become the change I want to see in the world. It's going to require a lot of discipline that I'm still restoring, but it'll be there. It's happening now, and it's process with a goal in mind.
The problem I've always have with creating goals is that they're so lofty that I already have it in the back of my mind that I can't actually achieve them, but even if I fail I would have gone farther than most. I look at that now and know that's absolutely effing ridiculous- what sense does it make to set yourself up to fail like that? Law school is a reach, but it's not so far that it's not possible.
I've also started dedicated real time to restoring my body now that I've restored a good portion of my soul. It feels good to work out and look in the mirror and see obvious positive changes. I liked being a head-turner. The problem I've had for a long time is that I felt so old in my soul and in my brain that my body also felt old and I felt that it was wasteful to spend time trying to restore something so old and worn. The reality is that I'm 26. I'm a long way from old, even if I feel like it, but I will never be old if I don't take care of the business of my health, which deteriorated in ways that should never occur in a body my age. So, I've started working on that before it's too late to save it.
My soul is another story. I've restored myself a great deal in the past four years, but I can honestly say, living in the South makes me feel far away from the Divine. I find no place to go for that connection. Here, people are dedicated to their churches and their bullshit rules and judgements, not God. I cannot, will not enter a church of any description here. I still have to figure out what to do about that. I don't necessarily need a church, but I do want to share that experience with someone else because nothing delights me more than sharing a great experience with someone. I love to watch another experience happiness- it brings me more joy than having it for myself.

It's a process. It's a matter of learning and living.

Soul-Bare

2011-09-25T19:47:00.002-05:00

It's been a long time since I've written- I honestly don't know if anyone reads, but it definitely feels good just to put how I feel or what's going on in my life out there. I suppose the correct term is "therapeutic". Everyone needs something like that every once in a while. It seems so often that the things I do lose "soul'- things like planting flowers are not joyful activities but things on a to-do list that is too long for any one person to actually accomplish. I rarely do anything because it actually gives me emotional fulfillment but rather mental peace- it's another item off of an infinite checklist.
I'm back in school, which means that the commodity of time is at an all time premium price. I'm a business major now, which means I get to do things like accounting and economics- time intensive and requiring full mental faculties. It's hard work, it's a lot of driving (I live 43 miles from school), but it's happening finally that I'm moving on so that I may have better tools to make a better life. Hopefully it'll be a fuller but more peaceful life. I realize I'm still trying to get a real steady foundation built, and I can't wait for the day that I get to actually build a frame.
I'm trying really hard to learn how to balance life. Sometimes, it's so much more important to stop and take a moment to enjoy what's around you- professors don't necessarily understand that, but I'm really beginning to get it.
Life is work, but life is also joy in tiny, lovely things.

Someone Like You

2011-07-15T21:05:00.002-05:00

Good news: I got accepted into the four year university today. Yay for patience and multiple submissions of paperwork.

Good news #2: I got to play the piano for FIVE hours today. It's the beginning of squelching the withdrawals I've had while I was living to work.

Good news #3: I don't have my hardware store job anymore. Thank God. I hate that place.

I had other plans, but because of the rain, I didn't get to follow through with them- mainly painting on my house. It's okay, though. I did a little bit of laundry, some dishes....and then it occurred to me: I have time to do something I enjoy.
So I sat down at the piano....that was at four this afternoon. It's now nine. I didn't realize I'd been playing for so long until I got up to go to the bathroom and get another drink. If there was the possibility of me having any job in the world, I would love to be a music teacher. The problem? I can't perform in front of anyone, and I don't know a band instrument. Both of these things are required to get your degree as a music teacher. This really is a case of "having nothing to fear but fear itself"- fear is what makes me choke up and mess up the notes. It's not that I don't know the song I'm playing- it's that someone is watching me do it.
I've never been a limelight kind of person. I like to stay kinda shadowy, I suppose, and this is why, though I love to play, I've never had any desire to play in front of someone. What I would want to do as a music teacher is just set one kid on fire with sound and have a passion for it as strong as mine. There are few things in life that can bring me such solace or joy as the right song at the right moment.
So, life is looking pretty sweet from among my black and white keys with college on the horizon. I can't wait to get that done so that I can get a real job making some money that isn't minimum wage. Maybe after I get done with that I can take more piano lessons and get better. Maybe someday I'll go back to school to be a music teacher.
Maybe someday.

Good Things Part Duh

2011-07-10T01:22:00.003-05:00

There are things in life that I very much enjoy. The Boyfriend, for example, is one of them. Trivia is another. Music and coffee drinks are two more. What's the best- combining all of them and adding a sprinkle of friends! This is the plan for tomorrow.
Even though it's due to illness, I got the weekend off, and I have to say, I remember why I love this so much. I've cleaned a little here and there (which is no small feat when you have vertigo), and I've done a lot of sleeping and reading.
I'm reading a very interesting book called A Clockwork Universe, which is about the British Royal Society (which was stuffy British men with microscopes and telescopes- but brilliant nontheless), and the dawn of science as we know it. Some of the key figures in this book are some of my most beloved scientists- Sir Isaac Newton, Tycho Brahe, Copernicus, and Galileo. Granted, they're not all British, but still had huge parts to play in the world of science. The one thing that these men never tried to disspell was that God was real- that came later- but instead had the profound idea of God the Mathematician. It had never occurred to me that in those times, suggesting that the universe was heliocentric made people feel as if they were further removed from God and therefore undermined humanity's place, hence the backlash against the idea. I suppose I take this for granted, as it has never bothered me that I'm not at the center of any universe, and quite frankly don't feel that my place is a threatening one.
I'm also reading a book called Musicophilia by Oliver Sacks, who is a world renowned neuroscientist and psychologist. Who knew that there are people that have seizures if they hear a G sharp? I didn't before this book. But there's more to it than that- there's the cardiologist that, after being struck by lightening, becomes an obsessed and gifted pianist- after 43 years of having little to no interest in music and no skill whatsoever. Or the woman that had seizures when she heard Neopolitan music. There's more- I haven't finished the book yet- but so far it's definitely one I'd recommend. I think after this I'm going to swipe my dad's copy of The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat by the same author. He does great research on a fascinating and wonderous topic- the brain and all it's misfunctions.
It's books like these, and articles in newpapers and online, that make me a queen of bullshit trivia. I revel in this- granted, much of the information I garner from my sources has little to no practical use except in livening a conversation. But still, it pleases me, so I continue to spend time on it.
Regardless, both books are great reads and they come highly recommended.

Wading Through The Red Tape Paperwork of College

2011-07-09T01:04:00.002-05:00

There's something to be said for anyone who navigates through the mess of college. I'm not sure what it was like in decades past, but today it's fraught with absurd amounts of paperwork, long periods of waiting, and hopes and dreams that the postal service will work. There is no one to give you a clear path to getting things done- it's up to you to navigate the choppy and unnavigatable waters of four-year universities.
I think it's a preliminary test to keep stupid people out- if you can't make it through, you don't deserve to waste your time and money here. Well, okay, let's be honest, that's probably more of a dream. I know that the PC thing to say is that everyone deserves an education, but the truth of the matter is that they don't: you don't deserve something you don't want to work for.
I'm currently going through the mess of trying to get myself into a four-year university. Why? I'm tired of being poor, and I'm tired of doing meaningless jobs. Both reasons are equal in rank. I want to do something that matters, but I want that something to keep a roof over my head and food in my dogs' bellies without me having to cast a prayer out to the Universe that I'll have enough to pay the electric bill too.
So, the new goal: to get my bachelors in economics and finance. Why? Because it's interesting and practical- everyone's concerned about money (moreso now than ever), and everyone needs help. The dream part: I open up my own financial advising center someday specifically to help small businesses. I believe in the mom-and-pop sector strongly, and so many of these companies fail because of terribly money decisions and a complete lack of advertising. Eighty percent die within the first five years of opening. I want the small businesses of America to make a come-back: in doing so, we could conceivably save our economy.
What I have to do to get there: 1) get back into college, 2) bust it to get my four-year degree 3)get a job as a financial advisor 4) take the test to become certified three years after getting that job.
I'm still on step one, but I'm getting it together. It'll happen. Nothing is forever, and the current state of affairs is not immune to that. I'm working hard to change things around.

Speaking Words of Wisdom Let It Be (Fourth of July)

2011-07-03T23:59:00.004-05:00

It's hard to explain the feeling of being American these days.
It's tiring, it's a battle, it's glorious that I can say whatever the hell I want, it's infuriating that other people can say whatever the hell they want, it's fantastic that we are supposedly guaranteed so many things, frustrating when none of those guarantees pan out.

I suppose it's all just a double edged sword. And, like it or not, Americans still very much live by the sword- proverbially or otherwise. We will never be a nation at peace, a nation at rest. Our arrogance is in fact our saving grace.

I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm poor. And there's thousands of us- but there's no Lady Liberty to run to.

What is to become of us all?

It's Been a Minute, Huh?

2011-06-19T18:27:00.002-05:00

It's been a long time since I've been on this blog. I've been too busy (and too broke) for the internet.
I've been trying to get it together, and I gotta say, I'm pretty proud of myself. I have a home that I love very much. It's soooooo much better than the last place I lived. It's a work in progress...but it's exactly what I want. It's modest, but nice, and it's my space. My dogs have a big backyard, and I've got a big garden in the front, and a flowerbed.
I got cable for the first time in five years yesterday. It was kind of a moment of triumph that I'm making it enough to afford cable and internet again. It's been a long time.
I have a new man, too, that has really enhanced the living experience. He's a little older than me, very kind, and a great head on his shoulders. He's kinda a big deal, mostly because he's what I've been waiting for.
Life's more bearable now than it has been in a long time. I'm lucky. I keep making it through bad situations and winding up in a better place than I was before the bad situation. I'm grateful for it, too.

Another Year Comin' On...

2010-12-27T09:34:00.002-06:00

I wonder what this one will be like. It's got to be better than last year, right? Maybe absolutely wonderful things will happen. That'd be nice. I'd appreciate it- but then, who doesn't appreciate good stuff?
This year didn't start so good, and it's not looking like it's gonna end so hot either. But, hey, there were good parts, right? You can't forget the good parts. Like they say, "Don't squander time, for it's the stuff life is made of."

Skittles was attacked Christmas Eve by a dog. She's got two very large holes in her throat now, but neither are in a life-threatening area. They're just huge and quite frankly gross to look into. I have to clean them three times a day, so looking isn't optional. Poor girl- she has no idea she's little with the heart of a lion.

Christmas Stories

2010-12-25T15:59:00.002-06:00

There's always the good moments and bad moments of every year that people always remember, and this year will be no exception for me. But I think this will be one of my favorite Christmases.
First, I got a text message this morning from a boy I know that went north for the holiday. Well, more correctly, it was a picture message of snow on huge old fir trees. The caption below said "It makes me think of you." It made me smile. Living in south Alabama, if you get a white Christmas, it's because someone dumped washing powders all over your yard....or toilet papered your house.
But last night was most special.

There's a friend of mine who has two young boys. Her husband is ex-military and works at Sears. She just recently was able to find another job, and so they've fallen on some lean times. So lean in fact, they really weren't going to have a Christmas this year to speak of. So, I called up a friend of mine, Charlie, and we concocted a plan to "Christmas" them. We bought them a tree, two boxes of 100 light strings, 100 ornaments, a stand, and presents for her kids. The plan was to deliver it on Christmas Eve. Charlie got called away, and I got terribly sick, so I had her come to my house (and leave her kids in the car because I was burning up with fever and wanted to minimize exposure). First, I handed her the presents, and she thanked me profusely. I could feel the grin on my face when I told her "Wait a minute, there's more". And then I took her to the garage, where the tree and the lights and ornaments were. The look on her face was priceless. I helped her load it up, and her kids, sitting in the backseat, were like "Wow, she got us a Christmas tree! Thank you so much!" Some other friends had gotten her boys presents, too, and they were laying in the back as well. And so, I sent them on their way as "Christmased" as they could be. She texted me later and told me one of her boys said this was his favorite Christmas ever, and honestly, I couldn't have been more pleased. I was so glad to do it.
I went over to my parents a little later, and I told them what we had done. I had already told my dad earlier because my dad had questioned why there was another tree in the garage. His reply was this: "Okay, little Jude. You know, she found someone to do that to every year." I didn't know this, actually, as my Aunt Jude had died when I was nine- but I'm constantly told how much like her I am. And my father, being THE quintessential storyteller, launched into his favorite story about one such time that they'd done the very thing we had done.

This woman dropped off her four year old daughter at her grandparents house. They lived in a two room shack at the back of a man's property, and the man that owned it let them live there for free because they were so old and frail and it wasn't really the kind of place that you could actually rent out anyway. There was a single bulb in it, hanging from the ceiling, and two electric outlets. Because they were so poor, they could not afford to do anything for Christmas, and they told the little girl that there was no Santa and that they couldn't afford to do Christmas. Well, Jude would have none of this. She went and got the old folks and the little girl on Christmas Eve and brought them to the family dinner, and my grandmother (who was a hair dresser) kept them occupied by fixing the old lady's hair and the little girl's hair. My Aunt Jude gave the little girl a frilly red dress to wear. Daddy said she looked just like a little princess doll. And while they were diverted, my dad and Jude's husband Jimmy, took a tree, ornaments, lights, and a boatload of presents (including a tricycle) over to the house and set it all up. When they were done, Jude loaded them all up again, and brought them home. When they walked in, my dad plugged in the lights on the tree, and being as it was dark, that's all you could see. The little girl's eyes lighted up, and she looked up at her grandparents and said "See? I told you there was a Santa!"
One of the best Christmas stories ever.

Jude did this every year for a family, apparently. I didn't know it, but it's nice to have yet something else that links her and I together. That story was one of the best presents I got.

It'll Eat You

2010-12-13T19:18:00.002-06:00

Seriously, how do people have so much time on their hands to be soooo miserable? Better yet, how did I do it for so long? It's more than annoying to me when every little thing annoys someone else and they feel the need to tell EVERYONE about it. It's like, "really? You have NOTHING better to do with your time?"

In beter news, I got an amp for Christmas- well, pre-Christmas anyway. Apparently my father couldn't contain himself. I'm excited- it's not anything like what I was looking for, but I'm still excited. And I'll never tell him that. But...I wanted a 2x12 guitar amp, or a 1x12 with a minimum of 50 watts. What I got was a 35 watt keyboard amp- no 12 involved. I'm grateful anyway. I'll just get a MIDI cord and hook my keyboard up to it (because a guitar at a very moderate level overloads it) and continue looking for a guitar amp. I'll just hide the new one when he comes over. He was so proud of himself, I didn't have the meanness in me to go "Dad...this isn't going to work." It will work, just not for what I had originally intended to buy an amp for.
In other news, my nephew is slated to arrive at my house January 3rd. I had no intentions of living with anyone ever again, but he is family and he's coming to work and go to school. I'm hoping this goes well- it'll be nice to split the bills. I'll have a lot more cash unharnessed for things I'd like to do with it- like save and spend some. :)

Mmmm, The Rock n Roll Snake

2010-12-03T20:12:00.003-06:00

I've spent amazing amounts of money on music lately- not amazing because it's a massive amount, because it certainly hasn't been that. It's amazing that I've gotten so much for so little, actually. I bought every Red Hot Chili Peppers album that has ever been PLUS 4 Widespread Panic CDs for 7 dollars at a yard sale. SEVEN DOLLARS. Fantastic! Then, on a whim I went to Barnes and Noble, and lo and behold, they've got a sale on CDs. I got a Coheed and Cambria CD for (strangely enough) 7 dollars. As I mentioned, I also went legal with iTunes, and I've gotten a good number of songs from there as well. Music, music, music. Everywhere in my life.
I've recently been looking at buying a new amp for my guitar, also. I think it's time to go back electric. I love my acoustic, but I think it's time for a little bit of a change. Plus, since the neck of an electric is slimmer, I can do more chords on an electric. God shorted me in the finger department- meaning that my index fingers need to be about an inch longer than they are so that I could do any chord on any guitar. Sadly, when I try to bar chords on an acoustic with a thick neck, it sounds more like...pain and suffering. Not like pretty pain and suffering- there is no blues in it- just the ineptitude of a short finger pain and suffering. I suppose lofty goals of playing everything I hear is to blame...ah, probably not.
I come alive with music. I feel it sneaking, writhing even, coming up my spine like some kind of snake. And I can't help but move, to smile, to scream sometimes, drive fast. Sometimes, I can feel the strings of a guitar waaaaaay down deep in my belly, like my soul resides there and every note resonates perfectly....It's so hard to explain something like this. I wonder if there's anyone else who ever feels this. Anyone's mood can be altered with notes and phrases of sound- but can they literally feel it the way I do? I don't know- no one's ever said so. I'm sure the "greats" do- I watch them on stage and I can see it. But, I'm not a "great"- I'm a normal, everyday girl that's so in love with sound that I wonder if there's any room in that part of me for anything else.
Another musical memory:

I was 19 years old, getting divorced, back at home with my mother, working at a seafood restaurant, going to school, and struggling hard to keep it all together. The feeling of failure was huge, a magnificent beast that just wouldn't let go of my jugular. The air show had come to town (like it did every year), and I had watched the Blue Angels practice manuevers over my house, but it had done nothing for me. I was on my way to work and dreading every moment of it. "Change" by Blind Melon was in the deck, and I was holding on to the lyrics like a security blanket. As I came down the road, the Angels were coming toward me at high speed, and as the words came from Shannon Hoon "keep on dreaming boy cause when you stop dreamin it's time to die", the Angels broke their perfect formation, and two went to each side, and one went straight up into the sky- and I whooped and hollered like something crazy, and "the beast" let go, and I knew right then and there that I would be okay. Shannon Hoon and the Blue Angels said so.
And they were right.

Sometimes it just takes Angels and a junkie to be okay.

....And sometimes it's necessary to be bitten by a snake.

It's the Weekend....

2010-11-26T18:50:00.003-06:00

It's so nice to have the weekends off. So. Nice.
I can't say it enough- I'm loving my life. I knew the pendelum would swing the other way, eventually...nothing is forever, right?
I'm more "me" than I've been since I left Michigan. No apologies anymore. Not one. And no more prisoners. There's peace here. It comes from an unburdened heart and a peaceful soul. I surprise myself sometimes, because instead of being angry and "doom, doom, doom", like I have been for a while, I'm like "it's all gonna be okay. It'll be over soon", and I cheerfully smile and go along my way.
I've got so much good in my life, and it's no longer being overshadowed by a looming foreboding. I always knew that there was good, but it sometimes gets clouded by massive shitstorms, ya know?
I got a special hug today. My friend Amber is not much of a touchy person, EVER. She always looks uncomfortable when I hug her goodbye, but I do it anyway, because I love her, and in the event that I never make it home or something happens between that day and the next that I'm supposed to see her, I always make sure she'll know I cared about her. (Side note, I don't leave my parents without hugging and kissing both, and telling them that I love them- and no friend gets left without love, either). If there's going to be a last memory of me, I want it to be a loving one. Anyway, she texted me a few days ago, and it said "We've got a problem." And when I tried to call her back, no answer. No answer for three days, and I couldn't track anyone down that had talked to her. So, today after work, I drove to Headland to see about her. I knocked on the door, and she threw it open and said "You DO love me! You're the only one!" and hugged my neck ferociously. I laughed and said "of course I did. I didn't know if you were dead, in jail, crying in a corner, what. I came to see you. Now, why the hell don't you answer your phone?" Turns out, her boyfriend was trying to do something nice and did the laundry...and laundered her phone at the same time. But, she's safe. And she knows I love her. :)
I love all the women in my life. They're super amazing- I'm constantly in awe of them. I understand why men think we're magic because, hell, I am a woman, and I think we're pretty damn magical too. I meet new amazing women everyday, too. It's so awesome. It makes me giddy. I love my men, I do. And there's a great many of them that I wouldn't trade the world for- but there's something about women that can just make you say "whoa". I'm so glad I am one of them.
I'm grateful for my life and the people in it every day. Thanksgiving seems rather blase to me because I remember everyday that it doesn't have to be good, and by good fortune I have great people in my life, and my dogs, and a home. I have love, friendship, food, and a roof over my head- this is so much more than so many. I'm truly lucky and humbled by the favor of the Universe.

Rockin It

2010-11-22T20:57:00.002-06:00

I recently went legal- that is, I started using iTunes. Why? Because limewire is under attack from the Feds. I'm not upset about it- I mean, I just bought a bunch of songs I like. I don't mind spending 99 cents- I do mind buying an entire album with one good song and fourteen fillers.
Oh, changes.
I'm still enjoying my job, still having a good time. I'm not getting ahead of myself. I'm more relaxed than I've been in a long time. I get to go out on the weekends now- and I don't have to listen to bitching. Single suits me sooo well. I get to have fun when I want to, I don't have anyone to clean up after or cook for besides myself. It's good stuff. And, I've got time to make new friends, which I've been doing in abundance lately. I may as well face the fact that I do have as much of a natural inclination to be social as I do to be alone. I love to be around people- when I actually want to be around them. Lol, go figure right?
I bought silk thigh high stockings today. Why? Because I've always wanted some. And it feels good to treat myself like that- even though I don't know when I'll ever wear them....but then, I do have a pencil skirt and red high heels. It may have to happen. I love flirting (and I've missed it sooo much), and there's nothing better for an ego than to walk into a place and watch everyone watch me. It's not insecurity, it's just a love of attention.

Swing Swing From The Tangles of My Heart

2010-11-20T18:40:00.002-06:00

I decided a while ago that I was going to live with dignity, clean up my act, and quit letting my more animalistic side have so much free reign in my life. Basically, it's been an exercise in being "civilized" and trying to be more restrained- you know, quit letting my mouth run away with me (what I fondly call "word puke"), quit letting my "drives" take over. Become cerebral.
What I've found is that this is harder said than done multiplied by eleventy billion. I am not good at not saying exactly what I think, I am not good at saying no to things that I want sooooo bad. But, I've done it. And I deserve a goddamn cookie.

Here's why:
1. There's this man, you see, that has more than picqued my interests (if ya know what I mean :p). And, despite every fiber of my body screaming "you want it, have it", I listened to my brain, and I spoke my mind, carefully. I told him no- because I don't want to be a number and I deserve better than that. I want something more meaningful in my life than a good memory of what happened once upon a time.....and delayed gratification is one of the juiciest things in the world. :) See? Still managed to sneak a tease in there....
And he said "I don't want you to be a number either."
Gold star for me! And a gold star for him, too.

2. While walking across the street in Abbeville, a really gross guy came walking up, wanting to know if I was married, and, hesitantly, instead of lying and being mean and giving him a lesson in pick-up etiquette, I said "no", and continued on my way. Then he said "then put your number in my phone", and held it out to me. And, instead of unleashing on him, I said "Um, no. Thank you and goodbye". Waaaaaaaaaaaay nicer than anything I would've done two months ago.

Gold star!

3. I have restrained myself from doing any illegal activities, buying CDs or movies, or clothes. I've put my money away for bills and savings. This isn't new- but I've been wanting all these things for so long.
Gold star!

And, as we all know, three gold stars means a cookie.

I've made a new friend at work. Her name is Kat, and she's awesome. She's sooo pleasant, so nice, so much fun. I enjoy her company every single day because nine times out of ten, we're experiencing technical difficulties and we can't do anything but sit and wait. We mix very well and we're very comfortable with one another. She's one of the rare souls that I immediately liked and trusted. Apparently, we also favor physically, because most of the people that we work with think that we're sisters or cousins. She's got long brown curly hair like mine and we share skin tone, but that's about it. But people keep saying we favor in the face...and we don't see it. But whatever. Maybe she's a sister in soul. :) It is good to have a new friend.

It's Been a Long, Long Time....

2010-11-17T20:12:00.002-06:00

Life has changed so much recently, and all for the better. I moved into a nice three-bedroom, two bath house with a big fenced in back yard (perfect for the puppies). I started a brand-new job that I like, I live a little closer to my parents. I don't work on the weekends. Good stuff. Thank God. It needed to happen.
I'm always grateful for change, honestly. And I'm humbled by the Universe's gratitude- and my parents. If it hadn't been for them, this could've turned into an absolute nightmare. But it's all good.
I'm doing my best to become a better person, still. I'm trying really, really hard to become really even-tempered. Like, so chill that I'm almost comatose. And I'm living with some dignity. I have more self-respect for myself than I think I've ever had...probably because I'm making it all by myself.
There are few things I love more than coming home to an empty house and happy dogs. It's lovely. I don't have to cook or clean for anyone but me. Call me selfish, but I love it. I have friends that come over all the time, so I'm not alone if I don't want to be. My friend Nicole has started staying with me every Saturday night- which is soooo much fun. She comes over after work, we get ready, and we go out somewhere, sometimes a bar, sometimes just dinner. We go home to my house and fall asleep to a movie, and the next day we get up and go to my parents' house for breakfast. This weekend, she's coming over and we're making hair clips and going out. It'll be awesome. It's been sooo long since I've had a friendship like this- and I've missed it. My friend Amber is the coolest, though- she and I level in a really awesome way. I've missed her a lot- between work and working on my home, and Nicole coming over on Saturdays, I haven't seen her in two weeks. It's all gonna change this weekend- I'm gonna take her out to our favorite restaurant and treat her to some good quality chill time. Can't say I'm short on men these days either- but I'm maintaining a respectful distance. I'm having too much fun to get involved, and I'm sick of being involved anyway. It's time for a break, a respite from male bullshit. I'm enjoying life too much to be lonely.

Call My Name

2010-10-20T19:23:00.002-05:00

Perhaps the most powerful motivator in the world, next to the trappings of survival, is love. It may be love for love's sake, love of cake, love of power, love of torture, love of G.I. Joe, or anything else- but it makes people do things that they would never in their right mind do. Love drives people to madness. It turns otherwise normal people into veritable the veritable puddle jumpers of life. Sometimes, you will land in clear and calm water...other times, you're shit outta luck and it's every person for theirself.
I think I've well navigated every single one of the puddles that needed a warning label. I don't think I've left one unexplored. I've haphazardly jumped from one to another since before I had any business doing so, and I feel it's all just added up to a calamity. What happened? I can't really say...I'm still fuzzy on the details. I'm not sure that you can say, though, that I can boast so good a thing as to proclaim "it was all for love". I've haphazardly fallen into the majority of things that have happened to me. By making no choice, I still made a choice, and thus whatever befell me was just as much my own fault as it was no one's. Am I still mired in shit? Absolutely. But I've decided to make a decision about it instead of calmly taking it all in.

You're Pissed about WHAT?

2010-10-15T01:07:00.002-05:00

The French people are apparently hoppin' mad and have taken to the streets. Why? Because their government wants to change the retirement age to 62 (still three years before the average American, and something like 7 years before most people actually attempt retirement), and (gasp!) they want to change full-time work status...to 32 hours a week. Now, in America, once again, we aren't considered full-time or eligible for ANY benefits unless we're working 35 or more. But, worse still, we work even more than that if at all possible because we can't live otherwise. I'm not entirely sure what they're pissed about. That equals out to be only 4 days a week for an average 8 hour shift. And working two more years isn't going to kill you. From the American perspective- and especially from an American of the working poor socioeconomic class- this sounds like an absolute DREAM. The average British citizen thinks Americans are nuts because they don't take or are not allowed "holiday"- they get, on average, at least 6 a year, including a long term vacation. In Italy, they shut everything down in the afternoon, and every one gets a nap before they get up and go to eat their evening meal- mind you, they also got an hour for lunch, and the day doesn't start until 8 or so for the average city dweller. Europeans have faaaaaaaar more luxury time than any American that isn't filthy rich. I'm thinking they get a pretty sweet deal, but this is obviously not a shared viewpoint. I'd love it if life could work any of those ways. I mean, the only "holiday" most Americans get in a year is when they have a family emergency. We don't get to flit all over the place and have lots of fun. We're nose-to-the-grindstone. We are a 24 hour, 7 day a week nation, and we're tired. The French shouldn't bitch. They've got a really good deal. I wish Americans cared enough to get out and protest the ludicrous amounts of bullshit that happen on Capitol Hill every day.
A senator from Nevada had some shit to say about Dearborn, Michigan, and it's largely Muslim population. She speculated that, because of its large demographic of Muslims, that Sharia law is practiced there. First of all, why is she worried about Dearborn, Michigan? They're not her constituents. Second of all, Sharia law is most definitely NOT practiced in ANY part of Michigan. But- "she read some articles that made her think that it was happening, and she felt it necessary to address it because no law should be practiced other than American law". Really, lady, really? How about we protest stupid people being allowed to run for Congress? I mean, the only rules regarding running for a senator or representative position are that you are an American citizen and own a home in the area that you are trying to represent. Why don't we demand IQ tests, or even better, that they are rigorously tested to make sure they have a highly functional knowledge about economics? Why don't we demand that the electoral college, an archaic institution that has little to no value to a public that is so accessible such as ours become, be abolished and that the popular vote be the ruling voice? Why don't we protest that WE, the people, have no voice at all anymore?
Then there's places like Africa, when there are problems such as inaccessability to clean water, rampant epidemics of non-curable disease, female genital mutilation, and in fact, genocide. There's still race wars there- thousands of women in the Congo have been raped and killed just because they lived in the wrong village at the wrong time. The problems in Africa are so enormous that one can't possibly list them all.
I'm happy that the French believe they are entitled to things and are willing to take steps to get what they want. But, seriously, in light of everything else in the world, I'm not sure why this made the news. And I'm not sure why it is that they feel they're being cheated. Two more hours a week, and working two extra years seem like a drop in the bucket. Only if everyone else were so lucky that this was the worst that happened to them.

Free-dom

2010-10-08T12:41:00.003-05:00

Cool things happened, or will happen soon:
1. I got into my new house and started cleaning and painting it this week.
2. A customer of mine paid for lunch for my friend and me yesterday without me knowing it. He's a nice man anyway, but I just thought it was the sweetest thing ever.
3. I made some new friends.
4. I bought cheap gerbera daisies and violas. I'm intending to have an Alice-in-Wonderland garden so that I can justify singing "Oh the flowers....we could sit and talk with them for hours...in a world all my own" while I garden. (You know, from the Disney film!)
5. My oldest brother and my nephews are coming down this weekend to help me with cleaning up my house and laying the new floor.
6. My friend Nicole bought me a candle as a housewarming present, and according to her its so awesome she wishes it were hers. Can't wait to see it.
7. My landlord is going to PAY ME to paint the outside of the house. I'm excited for this.
8. I saw Kindal last week, whom I haven't seen in a few months. That was a happy moment.

All in all, not bad huh? I'm kinda glad. I needed an upswing in life. :) And a sign...and I'm getting them. :)

A Letter to Divinity

2010-10-04T13:29:00.002-05:00

Dear God-Person,
I'm never quite sure how to address you. You've got so many faces- atoms, flowers, rocks, etc. So, forgive me if I got it wrong. We're cool, though, so I'm sure you got this.
I got a favor to ask. I'm floundering around again, trying to figure out what to do. This is very exhausting- kinda like treading water for long periods of time. I would like to do the right thing, even though I'm not entirely sure what the right thing is. I would like to be a better person, and once again, I'm not sure how to do that. I'm hyper aware of the dangers down here. Please, please, help me find some peace. I know that I'm being prepared for things down the road...but a respite from so much training would be lovely. Basically, my favor is to help me out here. I know signs are for the weak, and I'm okay with being weak and needing them. Just give me something to show me I'm doing the right thing. I'm never sure anymore.

Re-Sanctifying Sunday

2010-10-04T01:57:00.002-05:00

Toward the end of the movie "Diary of a Mad Black Woman", there's a 10 second shot (more or less) of a table loaded with Sunday dinner. It's apparent that it's Sunday dinner only because the shots before it were in a church. There's fried chicken, greens, corn bread....all kinds of good food. And it made me think of Sundays, well weekends in general, at my house when I was younger.
My grandmother was very much alive and well then, and she lived with my parents and I. My mother had gone back to work when I was nine and we were in Iowa, and from that time until we moved to Michigan when I was fourteen, she lived with us. She cooked breakfast in the morning- eggs, sausage, bacon, biscuits from scratch, and gravy also from scratch. If we had left over mashed potatoes from the night before, she would make potato pancakes, and I swear that I could eat a baker's dozen of those even when I was nine. They were heavenly! For dinner, we'd have absolutely scrumptous soul food- fried chicken, black eyed peas, green beans, okra, squash, things of those nature, and always a pone of cornbread, and at least once a week a from-scratch peach cobbler.
When I was 11, we moved to north Alabama, the Motherland. My mother's entire family has lived there for generations untold, and my brothers and their families had chosen to live there as well (of all the places they had traveled, mind you). My house became a constant hustle and bustle of people- young nephews, sister-in-laws, brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, my friends, long-time family friends, my paternal grandmother visited often...everyone. And the kitchen became even more important, and there was always something being cooked. As time went on, a number of these people actually came to live with us- my nephews became permanent fixtures. The oldest two and I shared a bed, the baby slept in a crib at the foot of that bed, and he was my responsibility mostly.
Saturday morning breakfast was my responsibility as well. As I had made sure my nephews were well-read at their young ages, they had a love of Dr. Seuss. So, green eggs and ham- which was usually bacon- was the menu for the kids (colored with food coloring of course), and then the adults got their requisite coffee, biscuits, gravy, and bacon. But Sundays...
That was always my mother and grandmother's doing. And it was a spread the likes of which I'm sure few families know. There was so much food that we'd still be eating it on Monday. There were so many people to feed, usually somewhere around 20 or 30! So, Mama and Granny made heaps of fried chicken, potatoes, okra, green beans, greens, and the corn bread was made in the biggest cast iron skillet we owned- coincidentally, it is also the biggest one made. Sometimes, there was fried fish, steaks, meatloafs...sometimes it was Cajun fair, the likes of which no one can explain because it's the best stuff you could ever put in your mouth.
I remember being so whole and complete then, and especially on Sunday nights. The weekends always brought so much work- this is when heavy duty cleaning was done, any repairs that weren't of an emergency nature, all the laundry and ironing was done, and there was entirely too many children to keep up with and to keep away from the stove. There was football in the backyard, or baseball, skateboards in the front, music blasting, so much laughter. Weekends were special- the time of total togetherness. But Sundays...they were special, sanctified.
I can't remember the last time I sat down to Sunday dinner....it's been years. And it's been well over a decade since we had togetherness like that. Madea reminded me of them. And I've decided that, upon starting my new job this coming November, that I will jump start the tradition. I'll have everyone I can over for Sunday dinner, ever single Sunday. I miss it. It was well worth all the effort, and it'll be worth the effort to have it again. I will re-sanctify an almost archaic tradition, especially in American society. We live in a country where time equals money, and time spent not working is money lost instead of enjoyment gained. It's time I gain something that can't be spent, but is invaluable. I'm taking back Sundays.

Changing

2010-09-30T19:10:00.002-05:00

If it seems to you that my life is forever in flux, you'd be right. Most people's lives are such, but few get to see such a balance of extremes. Things go from very good to very bad, and I try to catch up. When it's good, I prepare for the pendelum swing, and when it's bad I remember the good so as to combat it. Change is inevitable, and it's as constant as the seasons- we have little control or choice in the matter. The only alternative to change is stagnation, which is like death and devolution. So, I choose life and change.
Now, I do not pretend that I love all the changes that take place in my life, because I certainly do not. But, I accept them and hold to the belief that all things "come out in the wash", as the saying goes. One may not be able to choose all the things that happen in life, or even when it happens, but one can choose to celebrate instead of mourn. In midst of all the erractic things of life, this is one thing that you can have and hold for your own.

You may mourn the death or celebrate the life
You can sit down and weep or stand and laugh at strife.

I talked to a boy today that has an immense amount of talents and abilities at his disposal. He's in school, only a year away from graduating and becoming a substance abuse counselor. He wants to join the navy because he feels an immense pull for him to do so- who can argue with that? But he wants to quit school now and join. I urged him otherwise: go in the military if you want, but go in after finishing school so that you can be an officer. He told me he didn't want to be an officer because he didn't believe he had the skillset to be an officer. I became slightly exasperated- "what is it with people thinking everything should come so easily and naturally?" was the thought- and told him: "i'm sure Patton wasn't PATTON in the beginning. There's a learning process, even if you have the natural ability, just like with music." (He's a drummer, so this was very applicable to him.) He laughed and said I made sense (which I'm aware of). Let's see if my words were enough to encourage him to postpone going into the military at least long enough to get his degree. My other piece of advice was this:
"do what's going to cause you the least amount of regret. You will never regret having a degree but one day you might regret that you don't." I for one, think that he'd make a great officer- he's no Patton, but he could be someday (even though I'm very well aware that Patton was Army, not Navy). Why not dream when you can?
For me, it seems times of dreams are over. Reality has a firm grasp on me, and it only becomes more apparent every day. My mother had to have emergency surgery last week (thankfully, she's fine now). My father, honestly, can't handle a crisis. He is very much not in control of himself as a general rule, but when things get crazy, he flies to pieces. When I got to the hospital, he did calm down ever so slightly, but on the phone he sounded absolutely crazy. My mother is his "rock"- without her, my dad doesn't do well. My brothers, however, didn't even make it a point to call until days later- despite being made aware of the situation. It's very evident that I cannot entrust my parents to my brothers, and that, as they age, that their care will fall on me. While my parents are in relatively good health, despite the fact that they're nearing 70, it is inevitable that they're going to need help, especially my father. He worries me most of all. His mind seems to be slipping- he's so forgetful of everything, he's extremely volatile emotionally. My father, who has been engineering all his life, can no longer accurately make measurements, and this is most troubling of all. So, in looking down the highly possible realities of life down the road, I have decided that I will stay very near them. Staying here is, quite frankly, an awful prospect, but worse is the idea that my parents, who have remained my faithful cavalry my whole life, may need me and I will not be around to return their unfailing love and care. So, here I stay. And I begin the process of building a permanent life, instead of transient one, which is something I've never known in my entire 25 years. I'll do my best. I'm very thankful that while I was not blessed with being the most beautiful or the most athletic, I was blessed with immense personal strength and conviction and sense enough to know how to use what has been given to me. I feel that eminently it will be put to the test.

Life and Its Choices

2010-09-30T00:34:00.003-05:00

The possibilities are endless. Humanity limits itself in such a way so that life isn't so huge and more manageable. For me, I do what I can deal with in my soul. I have the thought, "now, in ten years, how well is this going to sit with me?" In other words, I will not burden my soul with something that I don't think I can deal with in the far future.
As we grow older, we become limited by fear and a lack of resources- whether these are real resources or just the capacity to figure out a way to circumvent an obstacle is irrelevent. I understand the logic of this. But, as Spock in Star Trek learned, the logical decision is not always the best one to make. So what if there's only a 4% possibility of success? If it's the right thing to do, then that is what must be done.

Stir It Up

2010-09-17T17:55:00.002-05:00

To You, "Beej"- I tried to tell you that shrimp dish sounded awful. I'm sorry it actually turned out that way, especially since it took so much time and effort. I can't comment on your blog for some reason. So, I'll comment on your blog...on my blog? Lol. It'll be all good.

I just finished reading Before the Legend: The Life of Bob Marley. Marley has always been one of those iconic people in my life, someone that's so magnificent in a way that it becomes acceptable to know nothing about them but still find them to be amazing. I decided it was time to learn a little something about the man that wrote songs so good I attached memories and smells (yes, even smells, and not just that of ganja) to them. And there's nothing like reading about a man before he had anything at all, because it's what we do when we have nothing to lose that really exemplifies our character.
Nesta Marley (Bob's first name) was a truly remarkable man in so many ways- known for fabulous work ethic while being absolutely baked, the strong silent kind, the post-conventional thinker, and, quite frankly, a smooth seducer. I figured I would read all of these things- being a musician, and furthermore actually making it in the music business (and maybe even moreso, making it out of Jamaica) requires extraordinary amount of work and talent, and his songs are so seductive that it is hardly befitting for them to come from a man without the skills. Rita Marley, his wife, though, has an interesting story- I'd love to hear her side of things. Bob brought to Rita the various children (living proof) of his various affairs to live with them in their home- because he wanted all his children to live together. I wonder if he ever thought of how this would make her feel- and furthermore, did the other mothers ever actually agree to this? And how tortured was Rita to take these children of her husband that were not hers? I infer that she's a woman of saintly virtues- because, fantastic musician/lover or not, I would've done terrible incapacitating things to his penis in his sleep after he brought home the first child. If there's anything I learned from Greek stories and myths, it is that every hero has a flaw, and I found Bob's. But, I half expected it, so it wasn't as disheartening as learning that my beloved Gandhi regularly abused his wife when they were young.
I can accept the errors of my heroes because they did such great things otherwise, and we're human- so we're going to fail at something. I do not, however, have the same forgiving nature of those in the inner sanctum who haven't proven themselves, and especially not myself. I expect more from them and me than I will ever expect of anyone else....I suppose that's why I'm rarely impressed with anyone. But, at the same time, while I ruthlessly expect more, I easily forgive shortcomings (except my own) when someone has truly done all they can do (by my measure). It's because I believe we all have the capabilities of being Gandhis, Marleys, Claptons, Sabans, Ritas, Laylas, Chanels, etc, if we just try for it. It's like the old saying "I'd rather shoot for the star and miss by a mile than shoot for the stump and miss by an inch". That's how I live. Everyday. No exceptions.
But, I'm listening to Marley. If there was ever a sound of "not working", it is this one. This is the sound of "have a good time"- which is something I've forgotten how to do. It's time to go remember how. Now.

"What We Have "Chere" His..."

2010-09-15T17:10:00.002-05:00

a constant rate of poor judgement and failure. Albert Einstein once said that insanity is engaging in the same acts repeatedly and expecting a different outcome- by his standard, I am indeed insane. I certainly feel that way. Apparently I have no capacity for making good choices with men- and I'm sadder about that than I am the waste of time.
My father told me this morning that I need to get a life. He said "all you've done is work and go to school. Go get a life, get a social life. Go have some fun. Leave off school for a while." Nothing like having a father's blessing to be a slack ass for a few months, right? In response, I'm going out tonight with a friend that I've been promising time to for a long time now.
Then I come home to relax and pack up my stuff. I'm moving back in with my parents. I'm tired of these personal revolutions. Really, I am. I'm ready for life to quit putting me through the spin cycle. I've decided that, in an effort to derail this vicious spin cycle, I'm going to go monastic- meaning that I'm not going drink, smoke, or have any dealings with mankind. I'm going to try really hard to drop "fuck" from my vocabulary totally and meat as well. In short, I want a clean life with less hassles. I'm going to make an effort to do 10 minutes of meditation every day, because surely to God I can afford to give myself 10 minutes a day. I'm planning and dreaming and scheming...hoping that life will become better soon. Hoping that I'll learn the error of my ways even quicker.

WHORES!

2010-09-15T01:47:00.002-05:00

They make my life better. Why and how? Because, despite what my mother always told me, trash will indeed bond with itself and take itself out. Fabulous, really, this trash.
So glad I use high quality bags, or else I may worry that I'd end up with trash on me. But, I do put forth the extra effort. That's what keeps the palace clean, you know- efforts and good bags.

By the way, I'm trash free.

Muskegon, MI

2010-09-08T11:24:00.002-05:00

I miss home. I talk about it all the time, honestly. It's a beautiful place, especially where I lived in Michigan. I lived in Muskegon, which is like having box seats at the Super Bowl- you're in exactly the right place to be comfortable, you can see everything, and it's beautiful. I was never more than 5 miles from the nearest beach, and our beaches are amazing. They're so amazing in fact, that they take tons of sand from the west coast of Michigan down to Florida to rebuild everything that the Canadians and retirees fuck up by building their stupid condos and ruining the beaches' natural defense against hurricane erosion. True story. So, next time you're in Florida, really, you're walking on my homeland. :) Also, something really cool about Michigan sand is that it's actually smoothly rounded like river rocks. It is glacier cut, meaning that tons of ice basically ground rock into submission and produced tiny, tiny round grains of sand. That's why it makes a funny "scuff" sound. Another thing: the sand in Michigan (and "Florida") contains magnitite, which is highly conductive- meaning, lightning loves to strike the beaches.
In addition to the beaches of Lake Michigan (where you're NOT a part of a food chain), there's also rivers and smaller lakes that are just gorgeous. Just don't go in the Grand River or White Lake or Ruddiman Creek. Otherwise, you're fine. There's mountains, too, and lots of wildlife.
There's also a million bars and three million bands to see. There's Skelletones, the Blue Note, Pints and Quarts, and the Rosebud (all within 20 minutes of each other), places like Lakeside Emporium (where they still sell penny candy and make their own fudge), homemade ice cream shops, and a million other cool little places.
Also, there's festivals. There's the Muskegon Summer Celebration, which has all kinds of big names (I've seen Stepphenwolf, Boston, B.B. King, Ray Charles, and Earth, Wind, and Fire there, for example- they've got newer acts, too, but I'm never interested in those). There's also the art festival, and my favorite is the Irish Music Festival. There's tons of Irish in Muskegon (so as you can imagine, they love to party), and this is just an excuse to get Irish bands out on a big stage, dance, eat, and drink, and sell Irish linens and wool and such.
Can you see why I miss this place? It's amazing.

How The "Phantom" Kicked My Ass

2010-09-07T01:54:00.003-05:00

One of the world's most beloved and longest running plays is "Phantom of the Opera". People who don't even enjoy or know about "theatah" love the music from "Phantom". As for me, the Phantom has long been a part of my life- first in high school choir, when we did "Music of the Night" and the main theme in a concert performance. Then, it followed me to my home, and I had to sing it for a solo performance. Now, as a piano student, I'm now playing "Think of Me".
I have been working for hours on perfecting this piece. I have to play it tomorrow morning at 8 AM. It doesn't sound so hard- until you realize that just me has to play all the parts that you hear in this rendition.

I am the strings, the woodwinds, brass, and vocals- all in 8 fingers, two thumbs, and the right foot. It's now 2 AM, and I've only made it to 3 of the 4 pages of music. I'm tired. But, a good piece is nothing without a good ending- you can start weak and flub in the middle as long as you have a stupendous finish. So....here I go back to the keyboard. Maybe by performance time, it'll sound amazing.

Colors on Trees Remind Me..

2010-09-05T18:37:00.002-05:00

I have nothing more to say. It seems that it is in my best interest to start being and remaining silent, for my own self-preservation.
I shall write again when I can.

Dreams

2010-09-05T00:45:00.002-05:00

I dream of things, like anyone does. Sometimes, I dream of making breakfast like I used to. I'd have oldies on the radio, dancing, and frying bacon and eggs while from-scratch biscuits baked in the oven. Sometimes I dream of having a family again. I don't really have one anymore. Sometimes I dream of working a day job that I could have the weekends off to watch football with my mom and dad. Always, I dream of peace.
I'll have it someday. Watch. It's closer than I think.

Vestiges of Former Falls

2010-09-04T09:34:00.003-05:00

Living in south Alabama, one will quickly learn that there is one-and-a-half seasons here. There's the summer season, which lasts about 10 months of the year, and 2 months of the summer season having an identity crisis. It's disappointing to some degree- I loved having four seasons. Michigan has a real winter, spring thaw, an awesome summer, and a beautiful fall. There were rituals for all of them, but my favorite, by far, was fall. I always knew when fall had officially rsvp'd for the year- I would wake up and just know. I had extra determination and more energy, a greater drive to do things now because there was no waiting until later.
Living at my parents' house, we had a fireplace. I would start collecting kindling in August, about once a week go out and find tiny sticks that had been broken off trees. By September, I would do that every day so that I could guarantee we'd have enough for the winter. (Yes, we knew they make those starter stick things, but why buy what you can get for free?). There would be a huge pile by the time the cold weather actually hit- magically, i always got enough, too. I would clean out all my living spaces and clean them well. I stacked mountains of firewood. Mom and I would start to make hats and food- chili, chicken brunswick, vegetable stew. There was this lovely feeling in the air- electric relief, what some people call the "crisp" of fall. I remember it so well. I miss it greatly.
Here, there is no need to put up food, make hats, or gather firewood, really. It get chilly enough for a hoodie, that's it. It has snowed the past two years- once each identity crisis season- and I'm thankful for it. I think it's the Mother's way of making me feel better. She sure is good at that.

Saucy Ladies

2010-08-31T11:26:00.002-05:00

Women always have those days when they've got a particular "thing" going on with them. They wake up, and it feels like a snake has climbed up their spine. Its head creeps all the way up into their head, and it whispers "give me the attention I want...I crave it so badly..." Since it's awoken and moved up the spine, the woman's hips have been freed so that they can swing in such a way that it almost looks like a careless invitation...but believe, it's all control. There's a twinkle in the lady's eye, but it's not hers: it belongs to the snake. But on these days, it doesn't matter. They are one in the same. They're looking for victims, maybe several, to fall to their charms and submit to their whims and desires. These are the days when they look so good in their clothes that men can't possibly see how they could look bad without them. She smiles like she knows something you don't. Her every move, every sound is carefully monitored and unleashed at exactly the right time to get her exactly what she wants....whatever that may be. Some are looking only for the attention that the snake tells them to go for, the kind that makes them believe they are indeed conquerors of men. Some women look to become goddesses in the eyes of men....and still others intend to vanquish the world between their thighs.

There's People I'm Thankful For, and Things I'm Glad I Did

2010-08-30T09:18:00.003-05:00

This is indeed another one of those "shit's gotten bad, so I'm going to remind myself that there are good things" posts. If you don't want to read it, don't. This blog is more for me than you.

1. I'm glad Ben and I sat in the parking lot of work until 3 AM listening to music.
2. I'm glad Gavin is such a good friend; he always reminds me that he's always there for me- and actually follows through with his word.
3. I'm glad my dogs are so concerned with my happiness that they will persist doing silly things until I smile and love on them in a happy way instead of a sad way.
4. I'm glad I fought for Lilly.
5. I'm glad that I have enough stories that people find me interesting- yesterday, when I walked into work, a man said "So, anymore interesting stories today?" and looking genuinely excited to hear them.
6. Strangely enough, I'm actually glad for one of my co-workers, Kristen. She's got this way about her that makes me feel better, and like I have a "sister" again, in a way. She reminds me that someone is indeed watching.
7. Here's to long-lost classmates- they make me feel better, especially when they tell me that they had the biggest crush on me in 7th grade.
8. I'm glad that I've had such an education- and I don't mean school so much. My travels, my mom, watching other folks, etc has taught me so much more than I bargained for.
9. A man told me yesterday that my skin reminded him of coffee that someone had added creamer to. Score. How often does a woman get complimented on her skin color, especially when it hasn't been faked through tanning or bleaching?
10. Thank you California Raisins and Marvin Gaye. You forever changed the way I think about the rumour mill....
11. I'm glad I have a mother and father that love me unconditionally and are willing to go as far as they need to for my good. What sweeter love or higher compliment is there than someone believing that you are indeed worth every little bit?
12. I'm glad for my friend Amber. She's just awesome, and I wish I could show her that I love her more and be a better friend to her. I'm trying to fill a void that is impossibly amazing.
13. I'm glad for my friend Brennan, and I miss her terribly. True story, though, she does still come visit me. Last night when I was on my way home and feeling so sad I could've crawled under a rock, I heard her say to me (irritably) "Why do you want to die when you have the chance to live? I'd do anything to be you."
14. I am glad that i have learned that I am not simply a race, ethnicity, or any other adjective. I am human. I have been liberated from the confines of a broken society.

This probably would seem to be a silly idea to most people, but it is good therapy. It's a form of "count your blessings" that isn't so fucking irritating. I can't tell you how much I hate smartass people that go off on a self-righteous rant about how spoiled you are because you have more than the kids in Africa and usually end with some sage advice like "so, eat your peas". I've been doing this for years- sitting down and writing out the good things to counteract the bad. Nothing gets rid of darkness better than the rays of daylight.

Mhm

2010-08-28T13:24:00.002-05:00

Ready for the picture of irony? Okay, here it is:

Girl driving to her parents' house to present them with her double Honors Associates Degrees and her Certificate of PTK, it's raining, "Rocketman" by Elton John is playing, she has 42 dollars to last her 2 weeks, and she doesn't have a job to speak of.

Did she cry? Absolutely.

Heartbreaker....

2010-08-26T23:20:00.002-05:00

I've been thinking about Layla a lot lately. She is an Arabic heroine of ancient times, famed for her beauty, notorious for her steadfast refusal to follow her father's orders. Everyone wanted Layla- she was everything any man ever wanted, but she had nothing for them. See, she fell in love with a poor man that her father didn't approve of. He fell for her, too, and there would be no one else for him. They were the original Romeo and Juliet of sorts....they died for the sake of their forbidden love. I'm not sure if theirs is a cautionary tale or one of inspiration...perhaps both. If you're going to die for something, make it a worthwhile cause...
As Priam says in the movie Troy: I have fought many wars. Some for land, some for glory. I guess it makes more sense to fight for love."
Isn't it the truth?

My new job isn't what I expected it to be- at all. I have to admit, it has fallen from grace. My boss is an excellent salesman; in fact, one could say I've been duped by my own kind...what sounds like one thing really is another. The most astere example of this: he said "I want you in this particular job"....which sounds a lot like "This is what you're going to be doing". What you aren't necessarily hearing is the rest of the second sentence, which is: "if you jump through all these hoops for 30 days, first." I, like an idiot, accepted what he said at face value. I didn't realize he intended to start me at the bottom and move me to said "wanted" position in 30 days. So, now, I have to do something that I swore I'd never do for 30 days......be a salesperson. Not even a clerk- a salesperson. I won't lie, it's a little heartbreaking to have my little glass palace shattered so quickly, but whatever......it's more money that what I have been doing. I can't complain about that. There are such perks, such as I'm rediscovering what it's like to be social again. I've hung out with someone I know- without doing homework- TWICE this week.
Ah, such is life. Nothing is rose-colored but the dreams of children and teens....

I Tried to Tell You.....

2010-08-22T22:40:00.002-05:00

I try to warn folks- you know, the whole don't-make-the-same-mistakes-I-did thing. Sadly, people don't listen. For some reason I have yet to figure out, people seem to think I lack the credentials to know what the fuck I'm talking about. For some, it seems to be because I'm "young" (by the way, there's a ridiculous amount of old fucks out there that don't know what they're doing or talking about- look at Fox News if you don't believe me) or because I'm female, or something. Don't know what it is, but I've decided if you're unwilling to listen then you aren't worthy of the fucking time it takes for me to talk to you about some stupid shit that's probably going to at least fuck up your day, if not your entire life.
I tried to tell someone the other day that people engage actively in two activities that keep them from living in the present moment to see what they're doing to themselves. 1)They're overly concerned over what happened in the past and how past events and decisions have shaped them- so much so that they seem to miss that they're just self-perpetuating a vicious circle because tomorrow they're gonna do the same shit- look back and go "what the hell just happened?" instead of living in the moment and stopping shit from getting bad right now. OR, 2) They're overly concerned over shit that hasn't even happened yet.

Now, I ask you, what's the point in worrying over milk you haven't even gotten out of the fucking refridgerator, much less spilled?????

Think about it, then tell me I don't have any fucking sense or any credentials. BUDDHA TAUGHT THE SAME LESSON.

That being said, I am guilty of having a very hard time following my own commonsense. I worry about what's going to happen to me, to my dogs, and I wonder what the hell happened to me. I used to be someone else...this person I am now didn't exist. I have been reinvented, reimagined, revamped, downgraded, something. But, I am smarter. I became what I am because life happened to me- that makes me a goddamn expert of looking out for bad ideas. And these days I think I'm so damn important that I can't unwrap myself out of my own little life to give a damn and two hoots about someone else. But, once upon a time...I dreamed of something better, and I lived it everyday, not caring about what happened, forgiving. How does Life justify itself when it reaches in and rips out all the good shit in someone?

An Evening Alone

2010-08-15T01:59:00.002-05:00

I won't lie, I love nights when it's just me and the dogs, a glass of tea, and some good music. I know Significant Other reads this thing from time to time, so the word to him is this: Don't be pissed. Normal people like time to themselves. It's not about you. It's about me getting my reset without having to smoke a doob. Leave it be.
I'm currently sitting on my couch. The dogs are in various states of relaxation all around me. Norah Jones "What Am I To You?" is playing from the laptop. The only thing I wish for right now is a window open and there be some rain. Really, that's optional. Right now is perfect just how it is. No joke.

Is it terrible that I get a great deal of satisfaction from knowing that my ex-boyfriends all ended up with terribly ugly women? Is it also terrible that I laughed out loud when I looked at pictures on facebook of my most recent important ex (from two years ago), and he's sitting by this terribly hideous Jabba-the-Hutt type creature that is his girlfriend and he looks absolutely miserable? Even if it is terrible, I don't care. I'm still gonna laugh and have my moment of satisfaction that he apparently can't do better. It's great for the ego.

A Laundry Breakdown

2010-08-14T14:04:00.002-05:00

I did laundry for ten hours yesterday, after a marathon of housecleaning. Why would anyone ever subject themselves to this? Because neither had been done in about a week. I go to my parents to do laundry because my washer/dryer unit died...last year. And I've never had the money to replace either since. I had to take care of my parents' dogs (they had to leave on some emergency business), so it was super beneficial. And then I looked at the stack of Rolling Stone magazines that I've neglected for the past four months...and thus, my day was filled. I fed and played with a brother-sister pair of Jack Russells, changed loads over every hour, and read two Rolling Stones.
I'm usually a fast reader, but with an RS I like to take my time, savor it slow. It's a combination of my greatest loves- music and reading. I got my first issue when I was nine years old, and I'm pretty sure that if a nine year old girl could cream her pants over something, then I would've over that magazine. It was such a novel idea to me- an entire magazine devoted to music. All these years later, I'm still reading them, slowly, usually with a glass of tea or some coffee- I used to lay in bed, smoke, drink coffee, and read them. Why? Because it sounded as luxurious as it was ludicrous.
But about 10:30 last night, a wave of sadness washed over me as I realized that I'd spent my entire day off working, and sneaking in moments of happiness....further into my pity party, I had the thought that this was all my life was going to be: working my ass off for long periods of time and sneaking in happiness. It was a terribly sad idea. What ever happened to enjoying life? I still haven't decided that there isn't a great deal of logic behind my mini depression moment. I guess I just get to choose how much thought I allow it to consume. And all this happened because I spent the whole day doing laundry. Then one of the hoses on my Jeep's engines blew, and the night became just a little more annoying. I guess it wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't wanted to celebrate graduating. I've worked so hard for it. But, no one would ever respond to text messages....so I guess it wasn't that important to them. *sigh Whatever. I'll just let it go....like I do everything else.

"What Happened To Her?" Answer: "Life."

2010-08-11T19:01:00.002-05:00

Today was a good day. I had my last exam (which I posted about earlier), and now I can look forward to figuring out what to do with my life. I'm not entirely sure where to go from here. I stand in sharp contrast to most everyone I know that is my age. Most of my generation, and especially among those that I know) has settled with (or settled for) children, possibly a spouse. They've locked themselves into a very clear future- they will live in this place, with these people, have children, and work in this profession.....for forever.
As one girl said to me earlier today: "I still live on West Street. I'll probably always live here, and I'll die here." She's lived on West Street since she was three months old, first with her grandparents, now with her husband and son. She's going to business college. She thinks it's wonderful- and I do too, honestly. That's a great deal of security in a very, very insecure world. It must be great to look out upon the vastness of time and know that it's gonna be a pretty good ride- maybe not the most thrilling, but nothing that you can't handle. She is doing what millions, perhaps billions, have done before her- there's nothing wrong with that. But still, for me, it means that I have one less role model. I do not walk the path of certainty. I never have.
Life to me is fluid. That means that one thing will lead to another, but that I'm not guaranteed a meandering stream...when storms come, it can become a raging, out-of-control river.
I have recalled many times this moment in my life: I was sixteen years old, and I fervently prayed to God that I would be allowed to really live, to please not let me just be passing through, but let me see it all. Well, I would say that my prayer was answered. I have not gone the way of the herd. But I find that going my own way is daunting- not because I'm afraid of it, because I'm certainly not. But I don't know what to do or where to go next. Picking and choosing destiny is a perilous activity, and therefore I give a lot of pause to making decisions, and I won't lie, I wait for signs...someone will know better than I.
I'm not so smart that I don't know that I'm secretly stupid, that my mind, for all it's sharpness and mountains of facts and logic and processes, is inept at grasping the true magnitude of possibility.
So, while everyone follows the prescription for a happy life, I'm left standing in a somewhat less certain position. What I am sure of, while we're all going this way and that, is that we're all going to go wanting for something someday. I also know that my life will be an adventure, and that upon my death I will be able to smile.

I'M FINISHED!

2010-08-11T08:26:00.002-05:00

I just completed my last final literally moments ago. I can't tell you the amount of relief I feel right now. I'm not sure what to do anymore- school has been the center of my life for a long time. But, damn it feels good to be done...at least until I decide to go back.
So, now, I'm going to go home and crash. I haven't slept in a few days. Then, I'm going to get up, clean the house, and cook dinner for my friend Amber, who is coming over. Then...I don't know what I'll do with myself. Maybe I'll go to the beach Thursday. Maybe I won't do anything (gasp!) at all. The point is that I don't have to do school work- and that's the most important point I can make.
But, thank God, the Great War of the Grades is over. It's time for a new beginning.

The Signs of an Age

2010-08-09T13:10:00.002-05:00

I can't tell you how often I'm told I'm an old woman trapped in a young woman's body. I can tell you it happens more than once a week, usually not more than once a day. Someone will tell me I'm far too wise to be so young, that I'm like their grandmother or mother...a friend of mine always said when she looked at me out of the corner of her eye that she always saw an old lady's face. In short, it seems that no one thinks of me being 24, not even me, and despite the fact that I look like I might be 20 at the most. Apparently, I don't believe myself to be so young either. As I looked through an Avon catalog last night and came upon the "anti-aging" stuff, I announced out loud that I needed some of that stuff.
Now, you must know, I'm the anti-beauty campaign poster child. I have three, sometimes four habits that one could consider vain.
1. I, on a rare ocassion, will wear makeup.
2. I use olive oil to remove that makeup, but I also use it around my eyes to repair the skin.
3. I wax my eyebrows like some people go to church: fervently and on a regular basis.
4. I buff my nails every week, but it's mostly to keep them from constantly breaking. The sparkle is just an added bonus.
Otherwise, anything i do is basic hygiene, and there's nothing vain about that. In fact, I forget about beauty all together unless it smacks me in the face, like when I look at catalogs or magazines. It is only then that I am reminded that I am not a supermodel and that in fact, I fall way short of their glory (these thoughts happen enough though the saner side of me says "this isn't real anyway...they're all airbrushed). It is thus that I live the power of the almight advertisement empire.
I wonder sometimes how so many of us girls/women make it through life with any self-esteem left intact. I mean, I was a slave to it as a new teenager: I ended up with an eating disorder (mainly that I just didn't eat...ever), an endorphin/exercise addiction, a cigarette addiction, a love for diet pills, and a very unhealthy idea of how to live because of the image industry- all by the time I was 14. And even though I did all these things in an effort to be beautiful, it was so I could be "more beautiful"...it wasn't that I wasn't pretty to begin with, I just wanted to be prettier. I hated how much work it was, but I did it, because there was nothing my ego wanted more than to know every man was looking at me and wishing....And sadly, this is because I was overrun by hormones and misguided by pop culture. As a side note, I never dressed like I was a hooker...I did take my mother's sage advice that I should always leave things to the imagination, because a prize behind the door is much more exciting than the one in your lap already. By 15, I had snapped out of most of it. I quit exercising obsessively, I started eating again, I quit taking diet pills (except when I needed to stay up to study, and it wasn't a habit I dropped completely until I was 20), and I began a slow steady climb out of the abyss of mass media generated beauty hell.
I am glad that I have no children. If I had a daughter, I would worry about what the beauty industry would do to her, too. I would worry that she would feel like she needed that appreciation from men to have a boosted ego. I would worry that she would do terrible things trying to live up to a standard that is fake and furthermore perpetrated by men, who will never be enslaved to its many habits and rituals, but will further enslave their sons to believe that the pictures of women in magazines are the epitome of beauty.
Where does the cycle end? And will I ever be free? I, who at the ripe age of 24, decided I needed anti-aging products?
The rationalizing process was awesome. Here's how it went:
Significant Other: You really don't need any of that. I mean, when I met you, I figured you were probably 18, definitely no more than 20. I was shocked when you told me you were 23. "
Me: "Yes, so, if I use this stuff, I look like jailbait now, avoid some hassle, and when I'm 70, I'll look freaking awesome." Then it dawned on me: I wouldn't avoid hassle, I would just trade one set of problems for another. And, more importantly, 70 years old is 46 years away. I'm not ready for that kind of commitment. I can't commit to dinner at a certain time or even shaving my legs everyday. I won't commit to be with someone until I'm 70- why would I give such a commitment to a product? I won't. I'm too lazy for all that, and too free. Besides, I'm going to age. Might as well look awesome at 70 because I use olive oil to clean and repair my skin instead of 90 bajillion chemical products that could harm as much as help.
Eh, we'll all get old and ugly on the outside someday. May as well be beautiful on the inside....it lasts longer.

Lovely Finds

2010-08-06T19:09:00.002-05:00

I love sales in stores. I adore them, really, for so many reasons. I love to peruse the stacks of things on clearance- the hunt is half the battle. I also love not paying full price. In fact, I do everything possible to never do such a thing- this is accomplished by hunting the sales and by making friends in the stores that I want things from. Yesterday, though, I came across a particularly good find at the local Kirklands- a cherry wood etegere. It was sitting in the back corner, like a misfit toy, with a sticker on it that said "$25 AS IS". I checked the original price- $100. I further examined the piece- the wood is in good shape, nothing is broken...then I give it a shake and it almost falls over. A-ha. So, I examine further and find that there are no pieces missing, it was just put together terribly....nothing that I couldn't fix. In short, I took it to the front counter and told the lady that I wanted it. She looked at it and said "well, we have one in the back that's in excellent shape", to which I replied "nope, I want this one." Apparently there was enough resolution in my voice that she didn't try to argue. I happily brought it home in two pieces (because it literally was put together that badly), and today I put it back together (with a little help from Significant Other)....and it's as sturdy as it should be, and beautiful. It is seldom that one can profit from another's laziness or ineptitude (whichever was the reason that it was so shoddily put together), so I consider this a super find. Beautiful and cheap because of human error.
I also found flowers made out of wood shavings for two dollars- wild roses, to be exact, and a really pretty iron candle holder that has been made to be a working ferris wheel! To top it off, I found some really pretty wall art for entirely too much....so I went to Michael's and surprise! Five 16x20 canvases for $20. I bought those, too, and a bottle of acrylic gesso....there are now two canvases in my house properly gessoed and just waiting for finals to be over so that I may paint to my heart's content.
All of this, as silly as it may be, makes me kinda happy. Yay for retail therapy!

Eat, Pray, Love

2010-08-04T11:39:00.002-05:00

I just finished this book by Elizabeth Gilbert. Amazing story. I want to do what she does. I want to walk away from a life fallout and go to Italy and India and Indonesia. It would be amazing. This book affected me in ways that I can't exactly explain at this moment because I don't really have the words to describe such a feeling. Something shifted...that's about all I can say.
I've started learning some new songs on the piano. I've decided to quit school for a while so that I can get myself together...I can't take anymore of life as it currently is. There is no sweetness in this spot, and hasn't been in a long time. I'm going to look for a yoga instructor somewhere around here and take up the practice again...I left it off when my life fell apart last. I've resolved to have peace around me. I'm thinking of selling everything I own, giving the important things to my parents, and the dogs and I hitting the road until we find somewhere to be. I probably won't do it. I just have to do something....because if you chase life this hard for this long, eventually it will kill you.

Blasts From the Past

2010-08-03T10:55:00.002-05:00

You know, Facebook is not a bad thing.
I have recently been looked up by two people in particular that I haven't spoken to in years- literally years. One girl is from Iowa, and we were friends when we were in the third grade. We haven't spoken until today....SIXTEEN years later. It's nice to know that I made such an impression that I'm worth looking up after so much time. The other is a guy I knew when we were just coming into teenagedom- he's a really nice guy, always has been. It was lovely to talk to him, too.
So, while I sit here and wonder away at what to do, the past comes to me. What does that mean?

The Blues At 2:30 in the Morning

2010-07-28T02:26:00.003-05:00

This is what I do at this time of the morning:

I love the blues. Goes good with a breezy full-moon night, cornbread, and beer.

Ave Maria

2010-07-28T01:25:00.002-05:00

If you know me, you know I'm totally consumed by music. It is one of my life's greatest passions, to be put quite simply. I used to sing when I was a teenager (opera and classical, if you can believe it), and I play a number of instruments.
I quit singing when I was about eighteen, even though I was good. I quit because it was so terrifying to me to sing in front of people...despite that I loved it. I would sing in the car, in the shower, when I was walking somewhere, anywhere, any time. I got disheartened by my sound, though, as I continued to smoke....you can't sing the "Phantom of the Opera" score and smoke a half pack a day, that's for sure. So....I stopped all together.
Two days ago wasn't unusual- I had written a paper on the Bhagavad-Gita, and I was getting ready to go to work. I was getting a shower, actually, and per usual, I had my mental iPod on random. "Ave Maria", one of my all-time favorites to sing popped into my head. I hadn't sung it in a number of years (despite remembering it perfectly) because I didn't feel that I made it sound beautiful enough to do the song itself justice. But, I'd quit smoking....so I thought "what the hell? You're in the shower and no one's home to hear you suck if you do. Try."...so I took a breath, opened my mouth, and sang the first bars. To my surprise, it was loud and clear, good tone (vowels needed work). So, all in all, not bad...and it made me smile. It's time to get the Schubert sheet music out and start practicing again.
I do wonder why I don't become a music teacher. I know a great deal about music- playing, listening, biographies, theory, etc. I love it- it moves me in ways that nothing else can. (I'm the only person I know that bawls uncontrollably when I watch Mr. Holland's Opus.) I do love science, but it doesn't bring me the peace and set me free the way that music can every single time. Science fulfills my need to contribute, to work my mind, to look at the magnificence of Divinity- and fills me with foreboding as I watch humankind march itself into oblivion, knowing that if they knew what I did, things could be better, and that science could validate me, and maybe...just maybe we could save ourselves and everything else. But, music does something to me that I can barely describe. I can literally feel my soul leap out of my chest when I listen to some songs, and I can feel imaginary strings being pulled from deep down in my belly when I listen to Prince play the solo on "While my Guitar Gently Weeps" at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction of George Harrison. I'm sure I sound possessed- and thankfully I'm not trying to describe this phenomena during the time of the Inquisition. But, sound literally does this to me. I understand what Beethoven meant when he said that music was man's highest moral authority- it can bend you in ways nothing else can, and there are songs out there that one literally must make themselves worthy of because they are performed from somewhere deep in the primitive soul.
Try it, listen....really, truly sit there and listen- especially to Prince.

And just feel your brain undulate to this:

I'm Plagued By Doubt

2010-07-27T03:23:00.001-05:00

"God does not guide the wrongdoers."
-The Koran, Sura 62

I'm not a Muslim, Christian, Jew, Witch, or any other person of religious affliliation, but I still read all the holy books; in fact, my previous knowledge of these works has been very beneficial as we've studied them throughout most of my literature course this summer. The Koran was the last that I had to read, and while doing so I had the question of what to do with myself mulling evermore in the back of my head (and the raven said "nevermore). I envy those that have things laid out in front of them, those that do not wallow in a quandry as I do. Such is not the state of my life, nor has it ever been, and I wonder why. Is it because I have the attributes to live in uncertainty without going absolutely crazy and many do not? Is it something I did or didn't do? I pray to the Universe to smile upon me, to shine on the way in front of me, and still she turns a blind eye. I am not angry about this- I just figure I deserve it. I do not believe that I know better than the Cosmic Order, and so I entertain the idea that maybe I'm not supposed to do anything I think I'm supposed to do. Maybe I've been doing it all wrong, and God has thrown up H(er/is) hands in disgust and said "okay, then, asshole, you figure it out if you think you're so awesome and don't need to listen."
I do not know what to do with myself- I do not know whether to be a farmer or a doctor, I do not trust my temperament, I do not trust my judgement (because I really don't think I have a damn clue), and I don't know how to best satiate my desires and do what is best for the common good (not that the common good has ever been aligned with what would be good for me especially). I was raised to have a tribal mind, and thus I live in such a fashion- but the tribe has all but dissolved, and I know not what my place should be.
It disgusts me to confess this, but I envy my cousin her happiness, the simpleness of her life. She is married to a man that holds her in the highest esteem and has always treated her exceptionally well, who served in the military. They have a baby girl they love beyond all things. She works a 9 to 5. They enjoy Sunday dinners together, and they never work on major holidays, but instead get to enjoy each other as a family. They have a nice life.
I do not want to be a mother or a wife, but I miss having a family. I don't really have one of those anymore, and without it, I wander aimlessly. We have broken and scattered, like heavy pottery dropped too hard on the floor. Never before have I seen us in such a state- things got bad, and instead of banding together as we have always done, we flew apart like atoms with the same charge instead of reciprocal. And without them....I have no place in my world.
So, in conclusion, God is not guiding me, but it's not because I am a wrongdoer. God does what God is supposed to do as it should be done....so I guess it's time that I play the waiting game. I just really wish God wouldn't make me pass my life by working such a terrible job and wondering how to feed myself and my dogs. And I really hope God will not always keep me in such a position that I can do nothing for the people I care about- there are few things more wretched that watching suffering and being able to do nothing about it.

Just a Quick One

2010-07-24T15:51:00.002-05:00

I've been "quitted" from cigarettes for one month and one day. It only bothers me when I'm around an exorbiant amount (like, if I'm around my mother, who literally will light one off the other). I feel better. My bank account feels better. Life is better without it. How did I ever have the time to smoke anyway? Or the money?

Some People

2010-07-23T09:46:00.002-05:00

You know, sometimes folks come along in life that are there for a reason. Sometimes they're there to help, sometimes to serve as a reminder....sometimes you're the one that came along to do something for someone.
For instance, I reconnected with a girl I haven't really talked to since high school. She moved to Boston right after graduation, attended Emerson, got a degree in Film and American Sign Language, and now works on Harvard Square as a bartender. She also "came out" as they say, and is happily living her life as the most authentic version of Kim I've ever known. (Yes, I knew she was homosexual in high school, even while she was bouncing around trying to avoid it.) Normally, this is a woman who will spend hours bullshitting with you before she gets down to brass tacks....but apparently, this has changed. She went right for business after years of a lack of communication. She told me to read The Secret. It's a book about positive affirmation, and she really believes I need that in my life, and she urged me to read it. Mind you, she really knows nothing about me anymore. She just felt the need to tell me to read this book. *Sigh So I guess I'll break down and do it...sometime. I just feel really weird picking up New Age books- it was something that I long ago decided to put down...and here I am back to it.
But, I am waiting for a sign and for intelligence I don't have. I'm waiting for the Universe to point me in a direction because this is one thing that I don't have. I almost look at Kim as the future, though....I could have her kind of peace.
And then there's this man-friend of mine that reminds me of my past and present. He's beautiful inside and out- and my emphasis is not on how he looks, but his brain and his soul. He's a good person, it's fairly evident, and in being a good person, he invites the wolf in because he feels bad that it's out in the rain. It's a mistake I've made countless times. Compassion doesn't seem to work so well anymore; I think Gandhi would be saddened if he saw the price that's been placed on compassion in this world. It seems that if you're a kind and compassionate person, you are going to be slaughtered in this world.
But, you know, sometimes you have to be willing to die to stay authentic to your being. My desperation to stay alive has deadened me. But, dead things provide the compost for new things to grow in....it's springtime in the day of my soul. I hope the buds can make it through the frost.

It's Hard Work to Give a Damn

2010-07-22T00:06:00.002-05:00

I had a terrible day on Monday. It was supposed to be a good one- and it turned into an epic battle on so many fronts.
I got up at 6 AM (after getting to bed at 2:30), cleaned the house, did the bills, medicated Lilly, got the laundry together to go do at my parents, ran to my parents to get my cash for my podiatrist appointment, got gas, went to the podiatrist. He told me my foot is healing quite nicely- I magically hyper-extended the ligaments, tendons, and muscles in my left foot- re-braced it, and sent me home.
I called my parents to tell them the good news, and after doing so, my father says to me "Why are you calling to tell me this?"
I was a little taken aback, and I said "well, I thought maybe you'd like to hear that I'm getting better, that something good is happening."
"Well, you need to get your ass here. Your mama's decided to take Granny back to north Alabama. She thinks she's dying, and she wants to take her to where doctors that know all about her condition. And you need to drive."
"Wait, if she's dying, shouldn't she be in a damn ambulance or something? What happens if she dies on the goddamn highway? What then?"
"Then you pull over and call 911. I can't afford the three thousand dollars it will take to transport her in an ambulance."
"This makes no goddamn sense."
"Well, it's not your decision. Just get your ass here and drive your mother and your granny."
This was the stupidest goddamn idea I've ever heard. But, instead of fighting, I went along with it. My father was absolutely freaked out. So, I went home, got my toothbrush, called work, called school, etc, and let everyone know I was going to be absent. And I went to my parents' house.
My father was a complete wreck (he doesn't handle any crises of any kind well at all), and my mother's blood pressure was through the roof. My grandmother had her up all night, screaming about how she was falling and "having a party with dead people". So, I did what I had to do- I loaded my grandmother in the back of the Le Sabre, loaded my mother, had my father follow me in my car so that i could drive home when I could, and took off for north Alabama. The trip should've been about 5 and a half hours. I made it to the hospital in four. While fighting traffic in Birmingham at 4 in the afternoon, I was doing my best to keep my grandmother talking (she would routinely stop breathing and get wall-eyed- the only way I assured that she was still alive was by forcing her to talk about all the things she was "seeing") and calm my mother (I believe she was really close to having a stroke). I also fielded all the phone calls from my nephew and my father. I stayed in the hospital room with her, and then- "we can't find anything wrong with her, so we're releasing her. Just make her comfortable." My grandmother hadn't drank or eaten in almost 48 hours, had been hallucinating for at least 24- but there's nothing wrong with her?! Once again, crisis ensued as we scrambled to find a hospital bed to be delivered to my grandmother's house and an ambulance came to get her to transport her. The bitch of a nurse nearly wore my handprint as she "explained" to me how "irresponsible it would be for them to allow her to get in a car". When I told her to hold off on the ambulance phone call for five minutes while I figured out where I was going to get a bed from- she didn't. She went ahead, and maybe one minute after I had secured a bed to be delivered to her house in 15 minutes, that bitch nurse came in, all smiles "well, the other girl had already called- sorry, I guess you'll just have to make do". Then, the EMSes literally dumped her on my brother's bed and walked out- and the rest of the family had just driven up.
Then, to make my crazy-ass father happy, I drove us back home that very night.
Honestly, I can't believe all this shit happened. It sounds like the worst white-trash story ever. It's an epic fail on the medical field's part, it's crazy as hell on my family's part. It's stupid on mine. It's hard work to care, even harder work to deal with the kind of crazy I've dealt with this week. Seriously.
I haven't stuck to my plan at all. I'm going to try to start tomorrow. Who knows- I give up. Every time I try to get ahead, the Universe puts me behind. I may as well accept the tremendous amount of "effing in the A" that is going to happen to me, brace myself, and hope there's some lube in the mix.

The First Step

2010-07-19T01:15:00.002-05:00

So, in honor of finding a new direction and a new, more wholesome future, I've decided to do three things a week to get me to...well, being whole and well. It's been a long time since I've been in that state of being- I'm just hoping I'll know what it is when I get there.
Starting tomorrow my three things:

1. Drink 20 ounces of water a day- no exceptions.
2. Read the Majors book and return it by Friday.
3. Do 1 thing a day I like.

The first thing is going to be continuous and is related to my physical health. The second thing pertains to my future. The third is about my errant mental health. The only thing that will change in this list is the goal toward the future. That will change week to week- but the rest will remain. I may add, but never take away. And I'm going to start small...maybe I'll stay there, maybe I'll move on to doing something bigger. Who knows.
I can't say that I understand why the past events of my life ever happened. I will probably never get it, and endlessly asking why and punishing myself has to stop. It is clear that I am not clear at all. I dreamed of the things I thought sounded glamourous, of what I should do- and that was wrong. I should've all along been dreaming of what was right for me. That is why everything has fallen through- everything I ever wanted became a total disaster and led me directly to this point, at which it is my turn to say "okay, I get that...now, what?" and proceed the way I am. It's been so hard...and sometimes I look at what is, knowing that it is out of my hands, and it hurts. But it is something that must be accepted.

True Story:
When I was 17, I left Michigan for six months and came to North Alabama to care for my grandmother. To me, this was the apex of the Promise Land. My childhood best friends lived there, my family was there, everything good I could remember had happened there. What I remembered was no longer the reality of the situation. I found my nephews lost, my brothers concentrated elsewhere, my granny supporting all of them. In fact, while my mother and I were there, all of us- mother, grandmother, brothers, me, and their children- lived in a tiny two bedroom house that was smaller than most apartments I've been in. My friends had changed. Once brilliant, energetic. and lighter than air they were now being sucked into the vortex of drugs and impending doom that they've been running away from ever since. My best friend was the worst to watch this happen to.
He was beautiful in everyway. He was beautiful to look at, beautiful soul, beautiful laugh, beautiful talent, beautiful brilliant mind. The cage created by the stifling "Christianity" of North Alabama was suffocating him. I believe at first he was self-medicating, and then he just became addicted. I knew then, at the beginning of his long road downhill, that he couldn't be saved from himself, and indeed, it would be up to him to drag himself out of the abyss he was entering. I'd had addict friends before- I knew this was the way. But, I couldn't help but try anyway. I begged him- we'd run West, get married, have a great life camping and finding odd jobs all over America. One day, we'd have enough money to go to college, and we'd be the spitting image of le vie boheme. It would be beautiful, I said. He turned me down, said he had other things to do. And I knew he was right. That was not our way- I would be taking one road and he another, as that was what must happen or he'd drag me down with him. I packed and left for Michigan the next day. We didn't speak again for five years.
I'll tell the rest later. It's a hell of a story. But, I wonder why it is that I could've been wise then and somehow end up being so stupid later. I guess it doesn't matter- I'm fixing it now. And being an addict to self-destruction through action/inaction is just as bad as shooting jet fuel into your veins. My best friend and I....we did the same thing. His track marks are on his arms, and mine are on my soul.

So Late..and Still So Awake

2010-07-18T01:51:00.002-05:00

I worked tonight, which is not unusual, and I worked on my hurt foot- yet again, not unusual. But, I had the thought that this sickness shit is a manifestation of doing the wrong things (granted, it's a terribly archaic theory, but ocassionally, it still holds water, if you know what I mean) churning in my head. And Lord, did my foot hurt, worse than ever before. And it came to me: I am not meant to work on concrete floors. I don't have all these problems when I work on the earth. I am, in no way shape, form, fashion, made to work in retail.
It's time to accept destiny. I am not made for high powered, absurd amounts of money and materials. I am not made for high heels, diamonds, or rayon. I will not find happiness in all these supposed marks of civilization. I find it stressful, depressing; it stirs a deep anger within me. Most of the people I meet are a waste of good material and breathe up good air they don't deserve, who believe they have an entitlement to absolutely everything.
I am made for the Earth, for animals, for plants. I am made for rain, dirt, and soft cotton. I am made for rainshowers without umbrellas and feet without shoes. I am made for the deep sigh of watching the land settle for winter, not the churning of engines.
This is who and what I am. I can dream of being someone else all I want- or I can be interminably happy with being just what I am, no apologies.
I think it's time I bite the bullet and do what I'm scared to do. I'm going to apply to Green Mountain College. I've been avoiding it ever since the crushing blow from Tulane. I don't know how I'm ever going to pay for it. I didn't know how I was going to pay for Tulane, either, but I believed God would get me through that one. Well, God is talking- it's time I listen. I must step off of square one and onto two. The Universe will deliver. I will have faith. It's taking me back to my Mother, my Earth, my rich brown life-giver....and I will follow. For there is nothing I Love more than the natural wonder of all that truly lives...I care nothing for the hollow existence of people.

The Humpty Dumpty Pharm House

2010-07-17T12:44:00.002-05:00

In the matter of two days, my house that I keep devoid of all drugs, even prescriptions, has been overrun by them because we've all fallen apart.
The mailman ran over my dog on Wednesday- the sweet girl named Lilly. She lived, thank God, but now she's on all kinds of medication to deal with her pain and trying to make her heal faster.
Skittles had to be re-medicated for hemmorhagic gastroenstasis.
And me....well, I fell apart from top to bottom. My wisdom teeth are threatening to break my jaw (on both sides) and in fact has pushed the right side a little out of place. I went to the dentist originally because the back of my mouth was so swollen that I couldn't close my mouth- and they tell me this. Then they want to schedule me for surgery immediately- which is impossible because I've got finals coming up and I have to give notice at work...it was just a mess. I finally got into a podiatrist to see about my chronically swollen foot- and he tells me that I have "a pretty good amount of soft tissue damage"...whatever that means, I'm in a temporary brace until Monday morning, at which case I have an evaluation and probably will get a cast.
I'm taking this as a sign. I'm living wrong. Sicknesses manifest in otherwise healthy people oftentimes because of bad life choices. Well, I'm typically healthy- except not now. So, it's time to get that way again.
Either way, the only things in this house that are fine are the male specimens. Maybe the males are killing the females- who knows. It's something to ponder.

A Poor Folks Country Home

2010-07-12T16:39:00.004-05:00

This is a good portion of my front porch. The large green plant by the support is actually a pineapple sage plant that has basically turned into a bush. The purple flower closest to it, up top, is a peacock phlox. Beside that is what people down here call a "blue Jew", and beside that is black eyed-susans. Below is an aloe plant, rosemary, and a box holding begonias and a flower I can never remember the name of.

This is the flower I can't remember the name of. Isn't it pretty?

And, as every poor person knows, anything can be made into anything else. Necessity is the mother of invention.

They may look a little ragged, but they've been on there for weeks now. It's allowed.

These black-eyed susans are on the other side of the porch that you can't see.

These flower boxes were made by me out of shipping pallets that a hardware store didn't have any other use for. Once again- the genius of being poor.

This isn't a very good picture, but this is Augustus, my Venus fly trap. I heart him.

And this, honest to God, is what my front yard actually is composed of- dandelions and purple clover. I have more bees, butterflies, and dragonflies than I know what to do with. But, it's nice that my yard needs no beautification. Mother took care of all that. :)

Why I Enjoy....

2010-07-12T00:39:00.002-05:00

See, I envy the birds their freedom
Their swoops and dives and barrell rolls.
I envy the scope of a cat's kingdom
and how everything falls into the folds.
I envy the dog his loyalty and happiness
And how his God is so nearby
I envy the fish their simpleness
Even their ability to stupefy.

The New Day

2010-07-11T11:30:00.004-05:00

Everyone has a different "wake up" ritual. My father, who is almost always the first up, brews a pot of coffee (that honestly looks like really weak tea), and sits on the back deck and watches the dogs play as his wake up ritual. My mother isn't nearly so chipper- she wakes up and sits in the darkest corner she can find with a cup of coffee and at least five Marlboros. While this happens, she will not speak. Ever. And you better not speak to her either. A friend of mine wakes up and goes to the gym in his pajamas- at 4:30 in the morning. And so on- the point being that everyone has their own thing to do to wake up.

My days start this way: I open my eyes and stay perfectly still for about ten minutes. My dogs somehow know the difference between "awake" and "asleep" movements, and I want a minute for me. Then, I'll look down at my feet on the right side, and inevitably, my littlest dog, Skittles, is awake also, her big brown eyes all a-sparkle and tail a-wagging. She army crawls- she knows how important it is not to wake up the bigger dogs too- up to the crook of my arm. I scratch her back profusely- her favorite scratch place- and then she rolls over so I can do her belly too, and she munches on her two front feet. By this time, the other two have been alerted that I am definitely awake. Little Boy comes first, and he stretches out the length of me (literally) and kneads at whatever body part he can find, and I scratch him down. Lilly, who sleeps at my back, flops her big head over my hip and waits for a while until she's had enough of being patient. Then, she slithers on over, knocking everyone out of the way. She lays down on the opposite side of me and rolls over for her belly rub, which I receive numerous soft lick-kisses for. When I'm done, I say "Okay, that's it! Lets go outside", and like a flash they're all at the backdoor ready to go do their thing.
Is there any better way to start the day than with unconditional love?

Granny

2010-07-10T12:42:00.002-05:00

Last night, while I sat with my grandmother and talked, this happened:

"Oh, I wish I could go see your little house and meet your dogs," she said.

"Why, Granny? You don't like dogs."

"But they're your dogs. And you thought enough to rescue them and make 'em healthy and give 'em a home. Now, that's something worth taking a look at."

A Late Night Obsession

2010-07-07T04:41:00.002-05:00

It is 4:42 in the morning, and I'm still awake. Why, might you ask? Well, I have midterms this week. Instead of going home after class today, I dutifully stepped up to the plate and went in to work when they called me for help. Which puts me reading The Odyssey until sometime this morning. In a few hours, I will take a test on all this literature, go to work, come home, study for another midterm, go in the morning to take that, go to class afterward, come home, and promptly fall out somewhere.
But, I have a confession. Half the reason that it takes me so long to study is that I'm so easily distracted by my piano. It sits in another room, where its dark, with the door shut, and still I'm drawn to play. If I'm at home, I do this all day long: I will do some menial task, such as cleaning the kitchen, and then I will go sit down at the piano and play for about thirty minutes. Then, I'll get up and go do something else...only to come back and play again. When I'm doing homework, I will read for an hour or so...and then trot off to the piano to play for a while. It's nearly five in the morning on the day of the midterm, and what did I just do? Sat down to learn to play a new piece of music, when really I should sleep.
But playing the piano is so much more fun, so much more stimulating than sleeping sometimes.
I'm relying heavily on my Korean Ginseng to get me through this week, as sleep has not be plentiful. It's partially my fault, though, for being so obsessive about the piano- one could say that she's like a Siren and I'm a sailor, drawn helplessly to her and my ship crashed on the rocks for the sake of the song- but that would just mean that I've spent a great deal of time on Homerian epics of late.
I wish I didn't have such a crippling case of stage fright- I'd love it if all I did was play a piano for the rest of my life. Hell, if I never get out of Alabama, that is all I'll end up doing- there's no other choices out there.

Two Weeks

2010-07-06T10:10:00.003-05:00

Tonight at 1:26 AM it will be two weeks since I last had a cigarette. I'm extremely pleased with myself. It's gotten easier as time has marched on. I think I'm going to go all the way and just leave off all my bad habits. My new year's resolution was to live healthier- I think I may have actually already accomplished that.
Thank God for will power, perseverance, and a good stock of food.

The Pancake Flopper

2010-07-06T01:52:00.002-05:00

Now-

I can cook numerous "exotic" dishes, all kinds of international cuisine, soul food, Northerner food; I can bake cakes, bread, make butter- whatever you want.

As long as you don't want pancakes.

For as long as I've been learning to cook, the pancake has been my nemesis. The first time I tried to make pancakes, I was seven years old. That pancake was perfectly browned on one side....and perfectly adhered to the skillet on the other. Mama had to scrape it out with a putty knife it was so glued to the spot. She banished me from pancake making for a while. I tried again when I was nine- we were living in Iowa, and it was an absurdly cold morning in December. I poured in my batter- and five seconds later, the pancake had spread to such epic proportions that I couldn't get it out of the pan. Then, it started to burn and I panicked- during my mad rush to avoid my previous mistake, I gave the pancake a good shove right onto the next hot eye. Once again, pancake destroyed, huge mess, pancake banishment. Again, I tried when I was eleven- not so epic, they just fell all to pieces. All through my teen years, they fell apart, got stuck, burned to the point that they could've been used in a discus event (because they looked at if they'd been flash fried)...then, I reached an apex when I was twenty-one.

Now, to set the scene here, so that you may truly understand how epic this was: I was living in a studio apartment on (technically, as there was a basement, and you entered the building on the basement level) the fourth floor, overlooking a dismally huge parking lot. There were a few big oak trees on the strip of landscaping that was covered in snow at the time. I had one window, and it looked almost directly into one of those oak trees. My boyfriend had stayed the night, and we'd gotten up to a blizzard. We weren't going anywhere, so I proposed breakfast from my tiny, tiny studio apartment kitchen. He requested pancakes, and sat on my couch watching the news. I swallowed my pride, said a prayer, and commenced on making pancakes. The batter turned out great, the first pour, fantastic. I'm starting to believe that God is on my side with this one. The pancake is perfectly round, perfectly centered in the pan that has been heated to the perfect temperature. I go for what I think is the point of no return- the flip. SHE SCORES A PERFECT FLIP! And then....FIRE. The f&*king thing literally had flames coming off of it- they leap off of the pancake, a pretty yellow and orange color that makes my failure just a bit prettier. I try to blow them out frantically, I pick up the pan and wave it, and then...I make a mad dash for the window. My boyfriend at the time stares in disbelief as I run to the window, throw it open, and throw the conflagrating pancake outside. But, I haven't just thrown it, I've hurled it- somehow I miss the massive oak tree....and it lands, not in the snow, but on someone's fairly new red car- and it's still in flames.

I closed the window, turned around to look at what may have been the most stunned boyfriend I've ever had, and say (with a smile) "well, that was close. How about eggs and bacon?"

"Or cereal," he says. "I think it may be safer, as you can't get an arson charge with milk."

"When We Get to the Ocean, We're Gonna Take A Boat to the End of the World...."

2010-07-05T16:17:00.003-05:00

I've decided that this fall, I'm going to take music lessons at college. That's all. No science, no math, none of that. It brings me no happiness these days, and I need a break from doing all the things that I don't like. Don't get me wrong, I love science- but I hate how science classes are conducted at Wallace Community College. I hate the way they give busy work and act as if it's the most important shit you'll do all day long. Music always makes me happy, even when I'm working on a piece that's frustratingly hard. I feel a great sense of accomplishment with every bar of music I master.

I wonder if maybe I shouldn't change directions. I don't have a clue how I'd ever make it in music- I'm neither the most experienced or the best at what I do. But...stranger things have happened, right? Shit, if people will consider Britney Spears a musician, I've got more than a snowball's chance in hell- because there's not tellin' if that girl can even get out the gate in the mornin', if you know what I mean.

It's time to take a trip into Enjoyment Land, and quit doing all this shit "cause I have to". I don't really have to do shit. No one does- we just impose all these rules on ourselves and overcomplicate the hell out of life.

"We aren't supposed to sit in little cubicles all day long"

-Office Space

True story. And we're not supposed to be slaves, either. So, one by one, I'm removing a link out of the chains. It'll happen someday. Freedom is what all these people have fought for, right? Well, it's time we claim our rights.

Looking Up

2010-06-30T00:22:00.003-05:00

My mom always told me to not stare into the sun, the brightest star in the solar system, or I'd go blind.

It's true- when you look into the blinding light of something that seems so epic, you lose sight of everything else.

I've focused so hard and heavy on finishing school that I've stopped enjoying life- I "got blind".

So- I quit smoking and I quit chemistry class. I'm doing the bare minimum this time- I'm taking three classes and working and spending some time doing shit I like.

Take today for example:

I cleaned up my house, did some laundry- nothing I hate doing. I went to school and did a speech on how to garden using garbage. Then- I went to Pier One. I bought four short handblown drinking glasses and four tall handblown drinking glasses on clearance- two bucks a piece. I'm going to give my mother back the ones that have been abscounded from her house. I decided that I'd try to find some really, really cheap white plates because I want to some art experiments with them- like decoupage and paint. Then, I went to Target and bought nothing- just wondered around and looked for two hours. I didn't go to chemistry class- I didn't study the night before- and I didn't go home and immediately start back to work. I thought about getting a haircut and what all I'd like to have and do- and for a few hours forgot what is necessary. I contemplated buying at least 20 pieces of furniture, 12 CDs, and 3 movies, a haircut, 5 kinds of soap, 3 kinds of shampoo, a set of tiki lights, a can opener that looks like a toucan's head, curtains, and "meltless" ice cubes- but I was content to just let it all go. It's nice to go look, it's nice to want, and it's nice to make the decision that I don't actually want them bad enough to spend the money on them. It was very therapeutic.

My next project is the plate art I talked about and a science project of some sort that's to be determined. Oh, and to figure out how to post pictures on this thing. That's a project too.

Time Marches On

2010-06-28T11:57:00.002-05:00

Well, it's Day Six of Not Smoking at my house, and I think it may be safe to say that we're through the worst of it. Thoughts of homicide haven't passed through mine or Significant Other's heads for a few days now- and we haven't fought since Day Three. There are ocassions that I just can't keep myself from eating chocolate- I'll crave it so badly that it literally will drive me to distraction. I've also craved A LOT of salty foods. Within moderation, I've allowed myself all these things. Getting over an addiction isn't necessarily an easy thing, and I'm afraid if I tell myself "no" too much I'll relapse. I'm through with relapsing- it's such a bitch to try to quit again. Plus, I'm really diggin' seeing all these good things happen just because I quit smoking. I feel so much better, I can actually breathe, I look so much healthier, I'm learning to work through my stress without falling back on a crutch, my bank account isn't going down from buying cigarettes anymore (and I'm not wondering where my money is going anymore), and I'm doing yoga everyday again. I can smell better, which is a huge deal to me, and I can taste better as well- and I love food. My cravings are fewer now, but they're more intense. When Significant Other is around and I'm having that moment, he doesn't understand (probably because I haven't told him) that he annoys me badly- when I'm dealing with a craving, I don't want to talk to him or anyone else. I haven't told him this because I know it'll start a fight. Sometimes it's better to say nothing at all. I've learned this with him, that's for sure.
Just to have peace, I've learned it's best to just say nothing at all and go about my day and pretend it doesn't happen. I quite frankly don't have the time to deal with "our" problems, and lately I haven't had the patience to do it either. Heehee, it takes a lot of patience for me to deal with me every day- there's not much left over to deal with other people and their baggage.
Quitting smoking is just the first in many changes for the better that I want to make this year. This is the one that I chose to tackle first, as sometimes my greatest challenge comes from "the enemy within".

Scratch It

2010-06-27T03:43:00.002-05:00

Okay, well, Day Four did not end as easily as it started. It's 4 A.M. and I'm still up doing homework after working tonight and doing homework for hours before going to work. I'm stretched for time. I can't wait for school to be over with. I can't wait for their to be less dumb demands put on my time. I'm still "quitted", but it's exactly shit like this that makes people relapse.

Day Four

2010-06-26T10:53:00.003-05:00

Today is starting out much, much easier than the previous days. Noticeable positive physical changes: my skin is looking even better, my foot is better, my breathing is better, my eyes are very bright and shiny, and- added bonus!- I haven't woken up with a stuffed up nose. I also woke up better than I usually do, meaning that I wasn't irritable. It's really nice that I don't have to make up time or resources for old habits anymore.
Since I started quitting, I've been doing yogic breath exercises. I do them all the time- when I wake up in the morning, when I crave a cigarette, when I get restless, and before I go to bed. I think they're actually helping clean my lungs out quicker. It also helps me deal with cravings, as I have to completely focus on the inhale and exhale of my breath and counting (and added bonus is that I get to "compete" with myself to see how much air I can take in and how slowly I can release it, which helps with tension, too). I really want to see if my lungs will clear out faster than 10 years. I'd really like for that to happen- so, it's a new goal.
Even though I've smoked for 10 years, I grew up in a house with people smoking prolifically all around me. My mother smoked (very very lightly and with a water filter on her ultra light cigarettes) while she was pregnant with me too. I wonder, seriously...how much damage had already been done before I even started smoking myself? I remember when I was a kid, I always had breathing problems, but I thought that was just because my allergies were so bad and we lived in such shitty places for people with allergies.
Oh well, no matter. What's done is done. Now is a time to move forward and clean up. I've made it this far and I'm refusing to go back.

New Horizons

2010-06-25T21:24:00.002-05:00

I'm on the 3rd day of being smoke-free. Besides the ocassional pang of addiction and subsequent momentary loss of temper restraint, it's okay. I'm actually liking it. I can smell the outside better, and I really like that. My skin is clearing up, and my foot (which I've been having problems with for a long time) is better. I can tell my lungs are happier; today, Lilly and I ran around the yard this afternoon and I didn't get out of breath. She actually got tired before I did.
About a week ago, I bought some flowers- peacock phloxes, black eyed susans, rosemary. I went to my mother's house and rescued her aloe vera plants, my pineapple sage (which have gotten to be able three feet tall), and a plant my mother calls "blue Jew"- I'm 99% sure that this plant has to have another name. In short, my front porch is starting to look rather bohemian with it's flowers, herbs, wooden chairs that are obviously worn and weathered, and the Tibetan prayer flags. Someday, I'll have to post pictures. It looks pretty homey.
An added bonus to all this greenery is that it's brought the dragonflies (NOT damselflies, I do know the difference) and a myriad of butterflies. I think it's the phloxes. Either way, it's really lovely to watch them from my front porch swing.
I bought a candle with a pineapple-cilantro scent today; it was a present for my house to burn off what smoke smell may have lingered. It smells delightful, and the price was pretty delightful, too, as it was a Yankee candle on clearance. I also cooked, which was a really lovely experience since my olifactory sense is in good form- dinner was fried squash chips, corn, macaroni and cheese, and broccoli. Good stuff- smelled delightful.
Now, I've moved on to doing homework, which is something I can honestly say I have been ignoring. It's been really hard to actually sit down and focus for the past few days. I'm making an effort today to get it together.
I think I want to go to Hawaii someday...maybe after I get done with this semester or something. I may just give away everything and me and the dogs move there. Who knows...maybe I could make it happen.

The 24th Hour

2010-06-24T00:56:00.004-05:00

..has come and gone. It's been almost 36 hours since my last cigarette. Here's what I've noticed:

It makes my body kinda angry
Anything can be irritating
I can smell better
I'm not sure that I want to smell better
I have an almost uncontrollable desire to brush my teeth all the time
I want to do situps (not sure why, the notion just keeps hitting)
One of the worst things for me to do right now is nothing at all
My skin looks better
My breathing has improved slightly

It's worth it- I don't want to be that person that has a million health complications due to smoking. One of my biggest motivators: they put flame retardants in cigarettes. I don't want to smoke flame retardants (not that I particularly wanted to smoke arsenic and urea either, but ,as f*&ked up as it sounds, they were preferable to flame retardants). Another big motivator besides my health is my dogs' health: I've noticed since there's been no smoking in my house, none of my dogs have coughed, sneezed, or acted like they couldn't breathe. An added bonus to quitting: extra money. If I put away all the money that I'd spend on cigarettes...I could take a vacation of epic proportions.

The only real problem with quitting smoking is that- for now- I can't hang out with anyone that does smoke (which is most everyone I know), or I'll tempt a relapse. It's an addiction, to be sure, and one that I want to be rid of. If I get rid of cigarettes, the only addiction I'll have left is chocolate- and I'm working on that one too. I just don't want to have anymore of these so-called crutches that really do nothing for me but make shit better for about fifteen minutes but much, much worse in the long run.

I don't constantly want a cigarette- it's just an ocassional, monumental urge. And I have to find something to DO- I can't sit and read or anything like that. Last night, I built boxes to curb my desire to smoke. I'm as addicted to the action as I am the cigarettes. It'll be okay, though. I'm quitting. I'm on day two of the rest of my life. I'll do it.

Attempts

2010-06-23T09:59:00.002-05:00

Today started the beginning of (yet another) attempt to quit smoking. It's a terribly nasty habit, and it's going to end up costing so much more than 5 bucks a pack. I've been trying to quit now for the past two years- I made it to two weeks once. I made it through bill paying this morning without a cigarette- let's see if I can't deal with the copious amounts of ineptitude at Wallace Community College without one.
In other attempts, I think I've bitten off more than I can chew this semester. This chemistry class is killing me, or rather the teacher is. To give you an idea of what I'm dealing with here: on a lab assignment, I got every single answer correct and received a "C" because I didn't put the answer exactly where my professor wanted me to put it. Yep, that happened. And I'm not actually getting to do any labs- I get to watch as other people do them, since my lab partner decided to quit and not tell me and there aren't any "spare" lab partners. For whatever reason, I'm not allowed to go it alone. I'm basically getting nothing out of this class besides a lot of math homework. I'm probably going to drop it today and make my life easier.
I also am attempting to let the Significant Other have the opportunity to act like an adult around the house. To explain how that's going...well....the blinds still aren't put up (it's been a week), the grass still isn't cut (it's been two weeks), none of the bills & receipts are filed (two weeks), and I didn't get the wood I asked for until I threw a fit about it (also asked to do two weeks ago), as this wood is for a class project. But, he did cook dinner and clean up the kitchen. I guess it's all about making tiny steps these days.

Daddy Comes Around

2010-06-21T16:22:00.002-05:00

Yesterday was Father's Day, as I'm sure everyone in America knows. An interesting fact about Father's Day: it's the day when the most collect calls are made. No joke...and it's kinda sad.

As I've mentioned before, my dad and I have a tumultuous relationship. We have some really bad times under our belt- and some really good ones. I've also mentioned that my father is a great storyteller-in fact, one of the first peaceful moments my dad and I had was over him telling a story...so I'll tell you that story to honor him.

It was summertime in Michigan, and I was seventeen years old. My dad had come home for a visit, and he was due to go back (to where ever it was that he was working at the time) the next day. He was sitting in my bandroom (which was a living room at the furthest end of the house from the bedrooms, and given to me so that my friends and I had a place to hang out and play music), playing solitaire on the computer. I came in and put a Simon and Garfunkel album into my stereo, and started playing "America"- one of my all time favorites. I sat down on the floor and picked up my guitar, intending to pick out the song. Out of nowhere, my dad said "you know, this song reminds me of a story."
I kinda smiled, continued to pick, and said "oh yeah?"
"Yeah, turn it down a little. I wanna tell you about it."
I sighed, moved my hair out of my face, and turned down the volume. I sat down on the couch, looking at Daddy. He didn't turn around, just kept playing solitaire.
"When I worked out at the geothermal plant in Nevada, me and some boys used to go hunting when we'd get some time off. Well, we decided one time that we'd go deer huntin' in Colorado, so when we got a long weekend, we set off. We were in Old Faithful (my dad's 1974 GMC Sierra that still runs), with that camper on the back, and it was colder 'n hell. We made a stop once we got into Colorado to get some whiskey at this little general store, and got some provisions, cigarettes, stuff like that. While we were in there, it started to snow, and by the time we left, you couldn't see five feet in front of you."
I interrupted: "And you kept on driving? Are you crazy? In the mountains of Colorado, in a snow storm, you kept driving?"
This is about the time he turned around to look at me. "Yeah, I kept on going. I was the one driving, and I didn't see no need in stopping. Just mixed me a little whiskey in my Coke and kept on truckin. Well, about thirty miles outside of town, headin' north, I saw this hitchhiker. One of my buddies, Brown, said "Lord, what's that fool doin hitchhiking in this weather?" And I said 'I reckon doin' what we're doin'- tryin' to get somewhere." So, I start slowing down, and lord did those boys have a fit. Asked me if I'd lost my mind, cause this hitchhiker could kill 'em all, and all that. And I said "well, if I don't stop, this man's liable to die. Shut up, we'll be alright." So, I stopped, and the hitchhiker got in and took off the hood of his coat, and lo and behold it was an Indian girl with the longest, blackest hair I've ever seen. Then the boys really got loud, and Green said Lord, my wife's gonna kill me! We can't take a woman with us! Our wives will kill us!" and I said "My wife would kill me if I didn't. Shut up, Green." And I asked her where she was going, and why she was out in this weather. She told me she was a college student, and she was going to her sister's in Redwood, Colorado, which is by the mountains. So, I changed course, and that's where we went, 'cause I wasn't gonna let that girl walk all the way to her sister's house in a snow storm. We got to this pretty little old town called Redwood, and then she directed me to her sister's house, which was in the foothills. It was just this little log cabin, all by itself in the middle of nowhere. The girl asked us to stay so that she and her sister could make us some food, as a payment of kindness, so I agreed, and we went in, Brown and Green all atwitter about how their wives were going to kill them."
"Lord, you'd think their wives would have more sense."
"You'd be surprised at how little sense people have, darlin. Anyway- so, we get in the house, and there's nothing but a table and some chairs in there, and this huge fireplace- it must've been six feet long. And her sister was sitting on a rug in front of this roaring fire- naked as a jay bird, with her guitar, and she was playing that song you were just playing." So, I sat down at the table and the boys did the same, and Green asked "you think she's trying to seduce us?" You know, he whispered it, but that girl heard him, and without even breaking up the song she said "there will be no fucking here tonight"- really, she sang it. And I just about died laughing. And when she was done, they cooked us breakfast, and asked why we were coming to Colorado, and when theylearned we were there to hunt, they offered to guide us through the mountains. Those girls knew every inch of those woods, and where the deer and the bear were, and how to survive and butcher meat. So, they went hunting with us too, as our guides. When we left, I left them a deer, and we gave them about four hundred dollars apiece for guiding us up there. I bet if we hadn't had them with us, we'd 've been in sorry shape."
"Did you ever see them again?"
"I went back up there, once. I went back to hunt and was gonna check on 'em, see if maybe they'd want to be my guides again, make some money. Their mama and daddy were drunks, so they were basically on their own. But they weren't there anymore. I wish I remembered those girls' names so that maybe I could find out how they're doin' now, all these years later. They were so cool. And every time I hear that song, I think of them and wonder if they're okay."

That's my dad.

Hurry Up and Wait

2010-06-20T04:29:00.002-05:00

This seems to be the game I'm playing these days. It's a very frustrating game, as every time I get a little ahead, I fall a little further behind. It's got to stop- I mean, really, this can't go on forever.
I'm used to being the trailblazer...it's difficult for me to watch everyone go ahead and me stay behind. It scares me, honestly. I'm normally the one to announce that I'm moving, that I'm going to go do something no one I know has done- and now, everyone's moving, getting married, having kids, and all that. Now, I don't want to be married, and I don't have a particular desire to have children...but I would like to move. I would like to be able to afford my own home somewher far, far away from Alabama. I'm nowhere near any of that.

The Calm Afterwards

2010-06-15T23:16:00.003-05:00

I love a busy day.

I especially love it when I get to look back and see how much I actually accomplished.

As a side note, Space Bags are amazing inventions. I intend to buy more. It will totally take care of the majority of my storage problems. I cleaned out my living room tonight.....the next room to be dealt with is the kitchen...then the laundry room....then my bedroom...then the dreaded spare room. I absolutely loathe clutter....so I clean out my house every few months. The thing is...I don't buy anything new (except books), so I'm just slowly getting rid of everything I own. It's an exciting prospect. I'm in love with the idea of not having much of anything.
After I conquer the clutter, I may think about thrift store shopping for a new couch. The one that I dumpster dived is falling all to pieces at this point. It may also be time to invest in an actual tv stand instead of a rolling cart that I rescued (once again) from the dumpster. If the furniture is not an heirloom or made by my father....then it came from a dumpster and got cleaned really well.
Or, maybe I'll go all out and buy something new. It'll be the first time ever in my life that I'll have a new piece of furniture....but I'm cheap. It'll probably come from a thrift store or a yard sale.

Week Three of Ten

2010-06-14T20:27:00.002-05:00

I'm slowly closing in on this semester- thank God. It'll be over before I know it. I keep telling myself that as I wait for videos to download for my chemistry class- since I have a test tomorrow. I've done all the book work, I've done a lot of one video already, and I just need to go through and tie up loose ends.
Then...there's speech class. My nemesis. One wouldn't think I have a problem with speech- I talk to much as it is- but when I get up in front of a (quite frankly) hostile crowd, I get nervous. My last speech required me to tell about myself- and I don't want anyone in that class to know anything about me. To quote one bitch in my class: "I'm not here to make friends." While I agree with the sentiment, I'm still cordial to everyone there. She isn't- believe me.
I have two more chapters in history to do, and I have to read the Old Testament by (gasp!) Wednesday for- get this- literature class. You know you're in the South when....

I've written countless letters to Washington D.C. I'm pretty sure eventually the Secret Service will call on me to tell me to shut the hell up. Lately, I've been on their asses about the Gulf Oil Crisis. This bullshit hmmming-and-hawing has to stop. There's entirely too much talking going on, quite frankly, and no enough doing, so I'm not going to say more- there's plenty of diatribe out there. As soon as I finish my 10th week of school, I'm going down there to help the clean up in the wetlands. If I could, I'd go right now....but alas, there's far too much riding on this semester to drop it.
My father informed me last night that, as soon as I'm done with college, he's quitting work. I kinda giggled when he said that- my father tried to retire last year, and it lasted for 3 months because he can't stand not working. But...my dad's getting old. He's nearly 70. He can't possibly pull wrenches on helicopters forever. I'm pretty sure, though, he could never be a greeter at Wal-Mart- he'd get into a lot of trouble telling people to pull their damn pants up, to not talk to their children that way, to get their hands off their girlfriend's ass, etc. My father has a word-puke problem that rivals none- he's King of Word Puke. And he can't whisper, either. It's terribly embarrassing when he comments on someone's clothes or the fact that they're horribly obese or smells bad, etc, because I know they can hear him...even if they're across the room. On the bright side of that, at least he's honest...brutally honest.
My mom still isn't home. The nursing home has put my grandmother on hold...so my mother has to stay. I can't go up there this semester AT ALL- I wouldn't even have time to drive up there, spend a few hours, and come back before I'd have something major to do (work, school). I try to alleviate her bad days by calling her everyday with a good story to tell her, preferably one that'll make her laugh. It's not much, but it's something. I miss my mom terribly, even though she's just a phone call and/or five hours away. I have a hard time remembering how I made it so well without her when she was 1200 miles/18 hours away.
Things will always be better, though. I keep telling myself that. If there's hope, then there's something to hold onto.

Everytime Someone Tells Me They're Getting Married...

2010-06-14T11:53:00.004-05:00

I have the distinct feeling that I want to throw up.
I also get terribly sad about it, but fake my way through it so that I look like a supportive friend. I know that when my friends tell me they're getting married, I'm losing my friends. Slowly, one by one (or, more correctly, two by two), they're going away. I understand that they don't do it intentionally, but a marriage is a lot of work. And between working a real job and working a marriage, most people have very little time left over. Then, they have children, and they really don't have time anymore.
The single friends are lucky to receive a phone call once a month.
This is the price of "growing up", I guess. I hate this part. Actually, I pretty much hate adulthood.
I will be the last girl standing. That doesn't really make me sad. I've got better and more meaningful relationships with my dogs than most people can ever have with other people. My dogs and I are honest, at least.
But, going back to other people getting married, I am happy that they've found someone they love so much that they believe they can stay with them forever. It's a good thing for them. It's selfish that I don't want them to get married, kinda, but I also know that the majority of them will barely make it out the gate before it's over and they're in divorce court. I hate holding my friends' hands as they go through a divorce worse than I hate holding their hands when they're going to get married. At least when they're getting married, they're happy. Divorce doesn't really make anyone happy...well, except me. I was ecstatic to get divorced (yes, I was married once...for a very short period of time). I got my freedom back.
My love of freedom, I guess, is why I don't really understand why people get married- I tried to be married and still retain some of my freedom....that didn't work AT ALL. I don't get how someone can sacrifice complete personal freedom. It's just not in my nature.

Feminism Part Two

2010-06-11T22:58:00.002-05:00

Now, for the present.

A Feminist doesn't have to stop shaving her legs, wearing a bra, or quit applying lipstick. She doesn't have to have a job- she can stay at home. She can have children, or ,if she chooses, she may not. She may be "white", "black", Native American, Asian, Mexican, Irish, Australian, Thai, Korean, Siberian, or from any other nation. She may be Jewish, Protestant, Catholic, Muslim, Buddhist, or a practitioner of Sufism- or any other doctrine of her choice. She may be homosexual, heterosexual, pansexual, bisexual, asexual- it is her choice. She doesn't even have to be a "she"- a feminist can be a man. Why? Because feminism is about freedom of choices.
As the Indian saying goes "women hold up half the sky". Therefore, women are at least the equals of men.
Forced female subordination happens everyday, even in America. It happens when employers pay a woman less than her male counterpart for the same work, it happens when the government challenges Roe v. Wade, it happens when someone says that a woman was "asking for it" because of the way she dressed. It happens when a girl's softball team is given a smaller amount of budget than the boy's baseball team.

Little Known Facts:
1. The long standing tradition of a woman taking her husband's last name was actually a practice for legalizing property rights, as the woman no longer belonged to her father, but her husband.
2. Muhammad the Prophet was first married to a woman who asked him to marry her. She was a businesswoman who took care of everything and gave him four daughters. She was never forced to wear a veil or be submissive to him, and there was no other wife besides her.
3. Girl's sport teams in school, beyond cheerleading, weren't legalized until the 1970s.
4. Harvard denied a woman her doctorate in Psychology because she was female- that woman later became the president of the APA.
5. Eistein's first wife actually came up with the Theory of Relativity. A Russian journal was the only one interested in publishing it, but they wouldn't allow it to be published under a woman's name, and therefore her husband was credited with it.
6. Societies were originally matrilineal. You can't be absolutely sure who your father is, but you can bet your mother will know exactly who belongs to whom.
7. Native American women were largely silent during the Feminist Movement of the 60s because they already held equality and prestige within their own communities.
8. The Greek term "hysterical" stems from the Greek word for "madness" and was supposed to be a chiefly female ailment caused by a uterus wondering around the body looking for children.

Feminism

2010-06-11T22:35:00.002-05:00

My Significant Other today told me about a man who came into his store. Whilst browsing and talking with a fellow employee, the subject of feminists came up- and apparently the man hates them.
Why? Because apparently, feminists are full-of-shit lesbians who don't shave and just wanna be a man.

Who knew? I certainly didn't.

I've got a close tie to feminism (and not just because I'm female). I have a story, in fact.
My great-grandmother, Ora (feminine Spanish for "gold"), was put to work when she was six-years-old in a cotton mill in Tennessee. Her father collected her wages every week, and she never saw a dime, nor an improvement in her life. When she was fifteen, she told her father to go to hell, she walked out of the cotton mill and into a new life. She picked her own husband, left him, and then picked another man....and she made him leave when he wasn't good to her children. She kept working, as she was a single mother. She wore pants, and she never allowed anyone to make any decisions for her. When she heard about the Sufferage Movement, she joined. She saved her money, left her children with her aunt, and traveled to Birmingham, Alabama, to march for the right to vote. Of course, she came back to Tennessee when the march was over, but she remained active in the movement from where she was.
My mother never openly protested, per se. She did smaller, subtler moves with a great deal of impact. My mother quit wearing a bra in 1962- in her words "anybody who's ever worn one can tell a damn man made 'em- they're the most uncomfortable things in the world". She wears them now only to funerals, graduations, and weddings. Everything else- you can forget it. She directed other women on getting birth control, and indeed advised it. She saw some of the same things Margaret Sanger saw, and believed wholeheartedly in it. A neighbor down the street (who, by chance was Catholic) was advised, after having a baby a year for 11 years, to not have anymore children, as it would kill her. Her husband threatened to divorce her for not doing her "wifely" duties, and, in an effort to keep her dignity, she ended up pregnant again- and it did indeed come at the price of her life. My mother also saw girls "just disappear in the night. They'd stay gone for months 'visiting relatives up North'". These girls had gotten pregnant and the families shipped them off to have their kids, force them into giving them up for adoption, and then returning them, with their supposed honor still intact among the community. My mother also secretly taught sex education to the women her age- she obtained (horror of horrors in the 50s) the Kinsey reports, and she shared them. It was generally an accepted practice that "good people" didn't read such "trash"- and she defied them. She also never accepted a wage lower than a male counterpart when she worked- "hell, why should I? Nine times out of ten I worked harder than they'd ever dreamed of. I deserve at least the same pay." She also boycotts horror movies because of the frequency of the show of violence against women. She avidly believes that it desynsitizes people to it, and thus makes it seem like less of a crime.
Then, her crowning blow to patriarchy: she raised me.

2010-06-10T03:43:00.002-05:00

Poem of An Encounter
by Anonymous A

I remember when I first met you-
My mama called, beckoned me
Finger a-waggin, lips stretched wide
in a Smile
"Come see this lady...."
My mama came to get me
Sleeping in my bed
so that I may meet you
and let you dance through my head.

I sat in my mama's lap, and watched you-
My mama surged, her excitement
Ran through her body, into mine
like a River
I listened and smiled
and your voice lifted me
even though I was just a child.

Years later, grown and cynical
My mama came, beckoned me
Finger a-waggin, mouth stretched wide
in a Smile
She handed me your book
Slipped words into my heart
so that when I read your words
(Long ago recited)
My soul grew and love got its start.

Dedicated to Dr. Maya Angelou. I can never do you the justice you deserve.

Tongue

2010-06-09T16:19:00.002-05:00

Today did NOT start out good- it started out sick. Literally. Very not good. I have a love-hate relationship with "throwing up"- and I know that sounds weird, so let me expound a little. I hatebeing sick, and I hate feeling like I'm going to throw up- but I feel so much better afterwards.
So, I've spent most of my day doing that and then going back to bed. I just recently (like in the last twenty minutes) felt well enough to get out of bed. My faithful dogs have been with me the whole time (i.e. they're lazy and they loved that Mama was laying in the bed all day because they had someone to cuddle with). They were, though, genuinely concerned for me and knew I was sick- they've been extra gentle and patient with me. When I got up, though, they all jumped up, tails wagging, and followed me into the living room.
Now, you must understand, my dogs are spoiled. They get treated better than most kids do. But today, I haven't loved on them much. But, when I came into the living room and sat down, Lilly (the pitbull) came up to me...and gently began to lick my foot. Then she looked at me....and licked again. This is the Universal Sign of Lilly that she wants love...and if she's not getting it, she'll give it first...and keep giving it to you until you love her back with a head rub or a belly rub, or (even better!) a hug.
Now, wouldn't it be lovely if humans operated on the same principle?

Wouldn't it be even better if people got to experience a pitbull like Lilly and understood that they're not all ferocious fighters, intent on killing other dogs and three-year-olds?

Just in case someone cares, pit bulls are NOT the number one dog in the nation to attack people- golden retrievers are.

Life

2010-06-07T02:23:00.002-05:00

I am once again swamped in homework. It's summer term, my last term, and I'm taking FOUR accelerated courses- chemistry, speech, world history, and world literature. I've been steadily working on all of it since the term began last week. I've been reading Gilgamesh tonight...

My first encounter with Gilgamesh was in the sixth grade- I had to read it for history class. I wonder why it is that I'm having to read a story that I read twelve years ago yet again. The story hasn't changed, and I still remember it. But, dutifully, I trudge on, and do my work as I'm told.
What I realized however, is that the story has now taken on a new meaning for me. A particular quote stuck out for me, and one I intend to ponder further:

"He who leaves the fight unfinished is not at peace."

Gilgamesh says this to his friend Enkidu when he experiences fear at fighting the giant Humbaba. It's a lovely allegorical look at the trials of life: if you don't meet this fearful thing head on, you'll live to regret it. Running isn't an option, really, because whatever your giant is, it'll run after you. Eventually, it'll catch up with you. And then, the possibilities of your defeat are exponentially higher, as you are tired from trying to run away.
What happens when you're tired of fighting?

Can't Sleep

2010-06-04T00:50:00.002-05:00

Funny enough, isn't it, that the blog right before this was named "So Tired"? I think it's a moment of irony. But indeed, I find myself unable to sleep at one in them morning- so I'm sitting here, writing a blog and listening to Dave Matthews Bands' "Warehouse". It's one of my favorite songs by them- it's so fun.
One of my favorite things to do is peruse news stories- I just read about a man quitting his job in Mexico so that he could watch his son play the World Cup, how a reporter named her kid after Bill Clinton, how BP is being taken to task.....I like to know what's going on. Sometimes.
I have tomorrow off, and funny enough, what's actually keeping me up is trying to decide what all to do. There's a lot of options. I could stay in and study all day (which is probably what I should do), I could bake, I could go to my dad's and clean his house and fix him dinner (another good idea), I could go visit my friend's mother, or I could go out with Iman. I really want to do all these things, honestly, and picking one is proving to be a task. I'll probably try to fit them all in- why lie?
I want to find a salsa class around this area. That's what I really want to do. I've always wanted to receive real instructions- my friend Abla and I used to go to this place where there were lovely looking Latin men that would totally spin you onto the floor and teach you. I'm pretty sure what I know what to do wouldn't be classified as proper salsa. :)
It seems like life is just a long, long trip in acquiring skills- and for what, really? I have no idea...but I'll have fun learning all the same.

Tired

2010-06-03T12:08:00.002-05:00

My mother swears that, since I'm "so young" I shouldn't even require sleep on a daily basis. She doesn't understand how my body can hurt so much all the time, or why I sleep until I can't sleep anymore when I finally get to fall into the bed. I get phone calls everyday:
"You awake?"
"Um.....no."
"Well why not?"
"Because I'm sleepy"
"Sleepy?! You can't be sleepy. Why, when I was your age..." and off she goes.

This happens a fair amount. My mother doesn't work (because she doesn't have to), and she does minimal amounts of domestic activities (because she hates them)- so she's always got energy to burn. She said when she retired, she was retiring completely. She wasn't gonna do anything she didn't want to do. Well, now she's the one primarily taking care of my dying grandmother, and she's finally seeing why I'm always so tired. Mental exhaustion is a bitch. I feel so bad for my mother, though. I think ,someday, she and I need a vacation. I'm going to see what I can do to make that happen. I don't know that my mother would think I need a vacation- but sometimes, Mama doesn't always know what's best.
Mamas and Doctors seem to have something of a God complex. They get so used to the idea that they know "more", and they know "what's best", etc. They forget they're just people it seems. And they forget that their children deserve respect- and that kids will mimic their parents. I hear it's hard to let them go- well, it's equally hard to let go of Mama, and it's scary, too. But it's gotta happen. And we've all got to learn- sometimes we don't know best.
And sometimes, we need sleep.

I Love Love

2010-06-01T12:48:00.002-05:00

There's probably been ten million college students that have "hooked up" to this song, and maybe two million babies conceived to it. It's almost par for course that someone would "crash into someone" to this song at least once in their lives. I was listening to old mixes I made on my way home from north Alabama, and this song came on, and immediately I was transported back to Michigan, some years ago. I giggled at the thought of how many boys (well, men now) probably think of me when they hear Dave Matthews, maybe a few of them especially when this song plays.

So, here's the exercise. I want you to click on the video, then scroll down and start reading so that maybe I can actually help you see the magic created when you fall in love to this song.

We'd had a great night out- Mexican food (as only someone from Oaxaca (sp?) can make it), and then on to see a cheap show of our favorite band. While we were watching the band, a snow storm had begun, so that by the time we left, the car was under about six inches of fluffy, downy snow. We were stopped by some friends, who wanted to talk (despite the weather), and he pulled me close to him so that I wouldn't freeze. The wetness of the snow had begun to creep through my really think pants that I had on underneath a dark pink gypsy skirt. On the way to the car, I fell a little behind, so I could make a snowball. When he turned around, I hit him square in the chest, and it exploded all over him- he laughed, a clear, deep, mellow sound. In trying to run from him, I ended up slipping on the sidewalk, falling into a snowbank, and he fell in his mad dash to save me. He ended up almost landing on me, and we had that brief moment....there was a feeling of "ah...nice" in the space between.

When we got to his house, we were covered in snow. Snow hung in my long, curly hair and his long, dark, straight hair. We sat down on the couch, still cold because the heat didn't work very well, and pulled a blanket around us. He gently took my hand, and we sat like that for a while, til I poked him, discovered he was ticklish, then proceeded to run my fingers all over his ribs, causing him to laugh more and buck, until I had him where I wanted him, and I leaned in and kissed his beautifully shaped, firm lips. And suddenly, everything melted away, and there was just a big Indian boy with his hands on my shoulders, and my arms around him, and lips locked together, wet hair, wet skirt, wet boots, and I whispered to him "sweet like candy to my soul" as I kissed him, and he whispered back "sweetly you rock and sweetly you roll"....and on we went like that....and it was there, on an old second hand couch in a house that had bad heat, that I felt my soul open up more than it had since I was a child....it probably looked like this:

*Raised Eyebrow

2010-05-28T16:18:00.002-05:00

When I got up from my afternoon nap today, I went to check my email. To my happiness and surprise, I had one from the NRDC that Obama has decided Shell Oil can't drill in the Artic- or anywhere else- this summer. I'm excited! I know it's very old-school of me, but I've been writing that man letters concerning his precarious environmental policies. Apparently a lot of other people have been saying the same things I have, because he listened. Thank God.
I get really tired of listening to people bitch about things to each other and then not do anything about the problem. It's a waste of time, first of all, and second, I'm tired of seeing people act like a bunch of whiny three-year-olds that just expects that things will be how they want them to be- just because. DO SOMETHING! I mean, sure, letter-writing is kinda boring and all, but it's something. I can't very well get out in the streets here in Alabama and have a full-blown protest. They'd just put me in jail and nothing good would be accomplished- remember, this is the state where they turned firehoses on the Civil Rights protesters AND unleashed attacking German shepards.
I bought a book about homeopathic and natural diet dog care, and as my significant other thumbed through it last night, he came upon a great deal of disturbing facts about meat and dairy products- and he loves both. But, after reading that, he's decided it's time to be a vegetarian. Yesterday he started looking at vegetarian cookbooks- because his new goal is to learn how to cook. He's also decided it's time to stop smoking. I smile and encourage...but I wonder if it'll actually happen. That would be a nice turn of events. Honestly, though, I'm just happy to see him try to learn how to cook. He's 26- it's waaaaaaaaaaaaay past time that he learned. Plus, it's takes the burden of having sole responsibility of feeding off of me and turns it into a shared responsibility. He's pretty good- he can make a pot of field peas just as good as I can. It scares me a little that he's in my kitchen doing things- he nearly set us on fire by putting water in hot oil once- but I'm just letting it go. It'll be okay. I have renter's insurance.
Back to the book, though, it's pretty awesome, and it's one that I think I'll definitely use. There's recipes for making good quality dog food, and it lists ailments and what to give them to fix them- even how much to give them, based on what they weigh. It was a steal for $1.60. You can't beat that, really.
My cousin also announced today that she's pregnant again- and last night, my friend Iman told me that she thinks she's going to try to have a baby next year. Will the baby onslaught ever stop? Every time someone tells me they're going to have babies, I think "what about the ones we've got now?" Twenty eight THOUSAND orphaned or uncared for children are estimated to die EVERY day in the world. Why are we so comfortable with letting them suffer from starvation and typhus and dysentery- and then make more? How about all the kids in America that need a mother? Children are children, no matter whose bellies they come from. I have thankfully been able to miss this "baby train" over and over- knock on wood that I keep doing so. I'd rather be a part of the solution than become part of the problem. If I had the financial stability, I would already have adopted children or become a foster mother- but as it stands, there's no way the social worker people would let that happen.
I don't actually have a problem with people having kids- but adopt one, too. If everyone would adopt one kid, the problems would basically disappear over time (the so-called third world countries are finally starting to having birth control programs). And what child is not worthy of being loved and cared for?
People should start trying to think globally.

Dreams

2010-05-28T01:55:00.002-05:00

Dreams are not something I waste a lot of time on- usually, they come in my head, and I dismiss them. I've found quite often that dreams just set me up for huge failures- mostly because Life happens and it's impossible for me to achieve these "dreams". As a result, I just live one day at a time and hope for something better tomorrow. I work hard for it...maybe it'll happen.

I'm not destined for a "normal" life. I always said I wanted something different....because a white picket fence just looks like the bars of a prison. I'm getting what I asked for, I guess. I should've been more specific.

Happiness is Banana Bread

2010-05-25T13:00:00.002-05:00

I have an awesome cookbook called The Starving Student's Vegetarian Cookbook. It was pretty cheap as cookbooks go- I got it for 8 bucks at a Meijers when I lived in Michigan. It's got fabulous recipes in it (and veg is the way to go when you're a starving student, since meat is so damn expensive). One of the recipes in there is banana bread, and I whipped it out one day about a month ago and decided I was gonna make some- mostly because I never had before.
I only have mini loaf pans, so when I make what should be one loaf, I make two. But, as I was pouring in the first of my batter (this is the batch that exploded and set the oven on fire), I thought "wow, these would be great to give people".
And I've been doing it ever since. I've tweaked the recipe to make it more my style, and every week on my day off, I make about ten loaves of banana bread and then go out through this area delivering them to people that I think could find some joy in fresh bread. I take them to my dad (who always eats it so quickly my mother barely gets a bite), and my friend Charlie, and Sue Ellen (my friend's mom), and various other folks. Sometimes, the roster changes....depends on what's happened to who that week. It's not much, I know, but it's my own little way to bring a little bit of comfort and happiness. Plus, I love to bake and cook- it's a good way to create. So I get some satisfaction, too- it's not like I stand there and hate every minute of what I'm doing. I put a lot of love into that bread- I just hope a little of it comes out.

Exclamation Points in a Deep Well

2010-05-25T02:27:00.002-05:00

There are always moments when we surprise ourselves- and a few a-ha moments that make us giggle. Here's a few of them for today:

After Cynthia and I talk about animal cruelty, and she explains to me that she gets worked up because she feels so overwhelmed and helpless by it, I tell her if she wants to do something about it, volunteer at an animal shelter once a week. Then: "Sometimes the best donation in the world is love." Yeah, me, I said that. Surprised the hell out of me, too. I don't know that anyone would call me sage- but then, I don't know anyone who actually listens to me either, besides maybe Cynthia, who pronounced me wise, and asked how I got so wise at such a young age. Like I said, I don't really think I'm all that wise.

Once again at work, I was vacuuming, and I noticed that the dirtiest aisles are the ones Christian books are on- and I giggled. Dirty Christians. Seems so appropriate. They seem to be the ones with the most mud on their shoes lately. I'm not sure what that says about them.

I've been dragging my feet about getting on with my life. It's time to stop. I mean, shit, I may be 24, and hopefully I've got a long life ahead of me, but having a lot of time doesn't mean it's something to be squandered. Time is a hot commodity, and one we're always going to find ourselves short of.
But really, I do sometimes find myself holding onto edifices that are crumbling...just because I'm afraid of what will happen after I let go. Sometimes...it's better to let go. I'm good about this most of the time...I just seem to be a little hung up this time.
I watched Zack and Miri Make a Porno today...and it was awesome as always. I heart me some Seth Rogen! And for whatever reason, I find it a very comforting story, porn making and all. It's nice to believe that maybe there are indeed friends out there like that, and I can't deny that there's a lovely sense of comraderie when their power and water get turned off in the middle of winter. Been there. I'm glad someone else has too- makes me feel like less of a loser. It sucks to work your ass off and have nothing to show for it- not even clean hair. But, no, I never bought hockey skates instead of paying my bills.
I know I pour desperation into this thing so often. It's the secret feeling I have- I put on airs of being together and handling everything with a cool hand. But I still haven't shaken the feeling that I'm just one week away from being screwed.
My dad told me today about a guy he worked with that rented a condo in Panama City for a weekend (1200 dollars for two nights) and then blew lots of money on stuff, and bought a 250 dollar tattoo. He had to borrow 1.25 from my dad to get a drink to go with his lunch. I can't imagine ever doing that- I think mostly because when I hear 1200 dollar, I think "I could pay rent for four months on that". And to think that I felt guilty earlier today for a 25 dollar bar tab and 2.16 for pens!

Moments of Freedom

2010-05-24T13:30:00.002-05:00

It's funny how much flying into a rage can really change your life. After my boyfriend called me an asshole because I got mad that he borrowed hundreds of dollars from my parents just to avoid going to fill out the paperwork so he could go to school for free...I unloaded all over him. In fact, it would not be terribly exaggerated to say that I lit his ass up. It's unfortunate to say, but for just about everything he had to say, all I had to say to him was "f$%k you!"- with gusto. I told him to get all his shit out of my house on Sunday, when he came back in to town....I'd had enough.
Quite frankly, he's been a totally self-involved asshole, and totally unsupportive, uncooperative, and lazy. All of these are "qualities" that any woman would balk at- and finally, after six months, I'd had ENOUGH. I'd made enough excuses for his shitty behavior, dealt with it long enough. It was time he dealt with himself.
So, in celebration, I bought myself some pens- and the liberation of wasting $2.16 was just phenomenal. Then, I went to Friday's with Twinkle and Iman, and boy did we do it up. I ended up with a 25 dollar bar tab- drinking $3 long islands. More money put to use in a non-survival kind of way. It felt great...hell, I felt great. I was pretty happy, needless to say.
I wish I could do this kind of thing all the time. Not that I want to drink all the time, necessarily... I just like the idea of being able to afford a $25 dollar tab and still pay all my bills.
I'm thinking it's time to sell some stuff...the beauty of being completely broke most of the time is that you find ways to make shit work. I wish that there was a bottle return program in Alabama...there was one in Michigan, and every can was worth 10 cents. I can't tell you how many times beer bottles and pop cans put gas in my car or bought my friends and I a cup of coffee and a small salad- and sometimes it was both, if I happened to have had a party recently.
When I got up on Sunday, I had a slight hangover, mostly, I think because I didn't sleep the two nights before my drink night. Went to work, came home. It's the same thing over and over again.
I think it's time that I took an adventure somewhere. I read about these people backpacking from Miami, Florida, to Argentina, going to Blue Mountain Beach, going to Spain, India, here there and everywhere, and I want to do that too. Maybe someday soon....I'll start saving money again, specifically for that. I tell myself that the adage "if it's not worth working for, it's not worth having" is a key tenet of life.....but it'd be nice if every once in a while, I could catch a break.

Gives You Hell

2010-05-21T14:19:00.002-05:00

"When you see my face hope it gives you hell....when you walk my way hope it gives you hell...."

I'm not usually a pop rock fan, but this song is soooooo appropriate. I first heard it when a coworker played it constantly after he caught his fiance cheating on him...and now that I'm in a similar boat, I find that it's a comfort. It can make you smile when the world is kinda going to shit.

I'll be okay. I'm not sweating all this shit. It's life, and quite honestly, I seem to inspire the worst in men. So, ya know....shit happens.
I haven't decided what I'm going to do yet, exactly. It'll be a good story when it's all done, though, I can promise that. :)

We're Off to Discover!

2010-05-19T23:41:00.002-05:00

I've been floundering- it's one of those moments in life when all the plans fell through and you're left going "okay....what now?"
Being the person I am, I felt the stab of rejection pretty bad- but my attitude bounced back by the end of the day and I said "F#$k you, Tulane. You'll be sorry one day when you can't claim me as alumni."
But, even though my attitude and perseverance came back, my well-laid plan was blown to bits, and so it was time to formulate a new one....Tulane was a dream, and I formulated around that. So, how to formulate differently? The hypothesis to test: what college is best for an environmental science degree and how do I get there?
I pondered this for a while- and then I went back to my roots: books. I've been reading all the literature I can find on the "green" industry, and "green jobs"- because my heart, my passion, lies in saving the world- and us- from ourselves. Then, armed with new information, I started doing what I knew best to do: testing. I took the OCEAN personality test, the motivation test, the stress test, all the career tests I could find (these were in a book I already owned but had rarely even attempted to crack), etc. Then, it was on to Collegeboard.com to put it to the test: find the colleges that can serve all my desires and needs.
I said earlier today that I'd taken time off work and had nothing to show for it. My feeling of accomplishment tonight says otherwise. I feel like I figured out a bit more about myself, I'm armed with new knowledge, and my compass is finally pointing in a direction again. It's just time for discovery.
If you look at my system, it's clear that I'm supposed to be a scientist- I used the scientific method, for heaven's sake, to redefine myself and figure out what to do.
There's a lady, Miss Cynthia, that comes into the store all the time. She's been working on her doctorate degree while I've been in school also. I've occassionally helped her out with menial details, and I'm thrilled that she finished- she's too amazing not to finish. She came in the other night, and per usual, we talked about school. She said "don't ever let anything get in your way of finishing school. You're too brilliant, too gifted, too valuable to the world to not finish. You can do so much. We need you. Don't let anything stand in your way." Hearing this really helped me- I believe all of it anyway, but hearing that someone else believes it too....it helps so much. There's few people around that I truly respect, and fewer still that I consider to be my intellectual superiors: she's one of the few that fit that bill. And if she believes it, if she says it, it's probably true. Thank you, Miss Cynthia for your vote of confidence and faith. It was much needed and very much appreciated.
I'm back on the road to discovery and waiting with eager anticipation to see how things unfold. I've been working towards a dream for a very, very, very long time- it's logical that there will be setbacks. But, dammit, I will get there. There is nothing on this earth that will ever shut me down. I jokingly say often "if I die, it'll be my own fault, 'cause men have been trying to kill me for years, and not one has even come close to succeeding yet." I believe this. I will leave when I'm finished and when I'm through fighting. I'm not through yet. I will get what I want.

In the words of Scarlett: "So help me God, they're not gonna lick me. I'll get through this, and when it's all over, I'll never go hungry again."
While I'm thanking God for influences, I gotta thank Scarlett. She's been with me for so long. :)

I know I pay homage to so many people on this blog, but you know, it takes the whole global village to make us who we are and what we'll become. I thank God for all the good people I've known, that have strengthened my backbone. Maybe it's time that we all acknowledged the people that got us here. Somebody made the shoes you walk in, after all.

Father

2010-05-18T23:05:00.002-05:00

I realized on my way home this evening, I've said very little about my father- very, very little. Nine times out of ten, if I'm talking about a parent, I'm talking about my mother and how awesome she is.
I suppose it's time that my dad got some floor time, too.

It's diplomatic to say that my father and I have had a stormy or non-existent relationship- but diplomacy in this case (as with so many) barely scratches the surface of the reality of things. Honestly, I've spent most of my life in an out-and-out brawl with my dad, or he's been far away on a job. It wasn't until I got older that I finally forgave my dad so many things I held against him and decided it was time that I try to build some sort of relationship-type thing with him.

See, my father and I have never agreed- on anything. We can't agree on people, directions, or even what color something is. And it'll sound something like this:

"Wow, that's a really pretty purple." (Me)
"That's not purple, it's deep blue." (Dad)

And then it's off to the races. And most of the time, as in the case with the color of something, it's a matter of perspective. My dad refuses to take his "eyes" out of the 1950s, while I live in a different universe all together. My father is also hard-headed about nearly everything, and loud and agressive about a great deal. Even at nearly 70, he'll still kick someone's ass.
What I figured out a long time ago is that I have a great deal of my father in me, and that he's just going to be what he's going to be without apology and without exception. With that in mind, I've learned the value of the phrase "agree to disagree". I ,also, refuse to back down from something that I believe is valid- I will also kick your ass.

Since learning to control myself better than he can control himself, I've learned a great deal about my dad- and heard so many interesting stories that I could fill a book.
My mother has gone back North to take care of my grandmother, which leaves me to take care of my father (because he's not very good at it by himself), and he's been sick. I've been dropping in on him, and coming to clean the house and all that good stuff, but today he called me- or in his words to my mother "he summoned me".
"Baby, I want you to come over in a little bit and make me some of that good Italian chicken. I've got a hankerin' for it, and I don't know how to make it."
Who can refuse that? So, I loaded up the tiller that I borrowed and some fresh banana bread I'd made, and went over to my father's house, where I learned that cooking Italian chicken was going to require much more than normal. For one, Dad didn't have spaghetti noodles or any tomato base. Secondly, he handed me a whole chicken to use. I went to the store and did some grocery shopping, then came back to face my nemesis: the whole chicken.
I cut a great many bones out just to get what I needed and left the rest in the fridge for him to de-bone (or to show me how to de-bone when he feels better). He kinda giggled at this, but I quickly corrected him: "I'm not trying to be a pansy-ass, I just don't know what the hell I'm doing. I'd rather you show me and save the chicken than me mangle it to pieces. Can you draw me a diagram? Mom's always bought boneless, skinless breasts." He couldn't draw me a diagram- so the chicken went in the fridge.
After all of that, and cooking for a few hours, I sat down with him in the living room. We started talking about a great many things- and Dad brought up the dumbasses that live around here, and the things they do. He said there was a guy that brought a video to work, and on this video, it showed this poor wild hog being held down by six men with razor wire around it's snout while a girl stabbed it to death. It took fourteen stabs to kill the hog- and it struggled and squealed and screamed until finally it bled out. The rest of the boys at work were laughing, and when Dad saw it, he told them they should be ashamed of themselves. "If you're gonna hunt, then hunt- this is torture and murder," he said. And when the boys asked if he hunted, he responded (per usual) with a story:

"I don't hunt anymore, but I used to. Last time I went huntin', I was sittin' in the woods with a clear view of a ridge in the middle of the Rockies, and it was beautiful....there were two bucks out there, and they were playing like children. When they came off that ridge, they passed right by me, like they knew I was there and wasn't gonna hurt 'em. And it was then that I realized it was so much better to watch them live than to watch them die."

There were a great many other things he and I talked about tonight, but that's the one that stands out so greatly in my mind. It's probably one that I'll never forget. It's so bone-chilling and savage what those people did- and so brilliant the way my father responded. It silenced them, made them think probably and give pause to what they had done. For me, it was a brilliant show of how deep my father's soul goes- that for all his bluster and pomp, my father truly has a good heart. I remember things like that more than anything when I think of my dad.
He's a gifted storyteller, to be sure. He's like the Forrest Gump (sans mental and physical challenges)- he's seen it all, been involved in all the major things of history. He flew for NASA in the 60s, for example, during the Space Race. He was in Cuba for the Cuban Missile Crisis. He went to Woodstock, and a Fourth of July celebration at Willie Nelson's place. He's lived all over the world, and he's seen what seems to be everything.
He's also a man of mind-blowing contradictions, many of which we've had fights over. There's been many times when he's said things to which I responded "how can you be so smart and so well-rounded and say something so ignorant?" My father thinks my political, social, and environmental ideals are absurd, and has no problem telling me so. Since becoming an adult, this has been where the majority of our fights have stemmed. Tonight, he conceded (finally) that he does indeed start all those fights- to which I replied "yes, you start all of them. But I end every one of them when I walk out the door." And we both laughed.
Despite all our differences (and likenesses, which sometimes cause more problems than the differences ever could), I love my father and he loves me. If ever I were in a war, I'd want him by my side because, even if he didn't agree with me, he'd always have me covered. Our loyalty and love far outweighs our differences.
My father is a good man.

Simple Woman

2010-05-15T19:38:00.002-05:00

I had a lovely day off today- there was no school work, barely any housework to do (mostly because I did it last night). I baked bread for three hours or so, and my friend Iman came over for dinner (which was field peas, cornbread, brocolli, and sweet corn- a starving student's delight) and for a game of monopoly (which I got terribly bored with- it always sucks when a game starts to look like real life). After dinner, we all went for a walk with the dogs.

All in all a good day spent.

Hippies

2010-05-13T02:08:00.002-05:00

I started using my new nibs and ink last night- I made a rose. Now, I don't particularly like roses- like at all- but it was a picture I had that a very dear customer gave to me. So, I drew from it. I'll post a picture of it later- mind you, there's lots of scribbling on the paper itself because I was experimenting- I haven't done pen-and-ink art in at least eight years. But it sure did feel good.
This morning/afternoon before work, I spent time restringing all the bracelets that I broke about five years ago. I got the carnelian, citrine, and adventurine strands done before I had to leave. They're so pretty- I love rocks. I used to have a H U G E piece of rose quartz (about the only kind of roses I like), but it was thrown out of my car when I had the accident last summer.
Currently, I'm resisting the urge to go buy dye for tie-dye. I've got new white sheets- a perfect canvas. Plus, boyfriend has white undershirts that could very well become tie-dyed undershirts.

Tie-dye and I have this relationship, you see. It began in the first grade when my mother was inspired by Lynette Jennings (if you remember her, she was on the Discovery Channel and did home crafts) to start tie-dying things again (she'd lived through the 60s....she was an adept at tie-dye by like, 1964). It became a favorite pasttime for us. Then, as I grew older, I kinda grew out of it for a while- meaning that I still loved it, but was afraid of what people would say about it (at the time, I lived in north Alabama, where anything unusual is frowned heavily upon). Then, as a teenager and adult-child, I rediscovered it as a way to meet everyone at the music festivals I would go to in the summertime. I would set up my tent, outdoor kitchen/living area, and then spread out this huge sheet with lots of buckets of dye. I'd hang a clothesline out between two trees, and then make a big batch of ash water in a Rubbermaid container, and wait for people to walk by. They almost inevitably took interest in it, and would ask "hey, man, can I tie-dye my (insert fabric item) with you?" To which I would respond "sure, bring it on over." We'd talk, introduce ourselves, do the get-to-know-each other thing- and by the end of the festival, everyone in the camp ground knew me.

Now, though, I'm not at a festival, and it would still be a means to have people "look" at me, but I really don't care. I just want to go through the ritual of tie-dye. Doesn't it sound like fun? I could even throw a dye festival of my own at my house. I love doing stuff like that.
Tomorrow, in fact, I'm having a banana bread baking shin dig. It'll be fun, and hopefully nothing will catch on fire this time. I'll post pictures of that too.

Mothers

2010-05-12T02:45:00.004-05:00

I had a very pleasant day. I took library books back and had my final exam in psychology. Then I headed to get insurance forms filled out at my doctor's office- only to find to my surprise that they were totally on the ball and had already gotten them, filled them out, and sent them back in. (!) Such a lovely surprise. Then, I went to see my mother before she goes to north Alabama to get my grandmother. We ended up going to Target- the plan was for sheets. And, we did get sheets- amazing organic cotton ones that are the bee's knees. They're so soft, so ungenetically modified, so un-pesticided that it seems a shame to ever buy anything else. We originally went for bamboo sheets, but they were out (probably because they're actually more amazing than organic cotton). But, we got other things too- I got a wallet shaped like a record, a dress, a few shirts, and some underwear too (which is always in need, since my pit bull LOVES to eat underwear and knows how to open the drawers of the chest to get to them). The end total was $200- 2/3 of what rent costs me a month. God, I can't wait to drop that kind of money on "stuff" and not worry about it 'cause I'm definitely worried about it now.

Then, we went to Ruby Tuesday for salads and mini burgers. We were seated...we waited. The server finally came by, and she was lovely- brought us our drinks in a hurry, and we ordered. We went for salads. We finished the salads......40 minutes later, we were still waiting for our mini burgers. Then, here comes the manager- she's buying our dinner because the kitchen messed up our order. That was awfully nice. We never asked where our food was, mind you- my mom and I just sat and talked and once she asked me "how long does it take to get two tiny hamburgers cooked do you think?"- while no one was in earshot. But, we got our food, it was delicious, and it was free- so, super amazing. THEN- it was off to Michael's Crafts. I have to say, it was slightly disappointing. I miss Hobby Lobby- they have lower prices and better selection, but Michael's is the only game in town. Mom bought me a calligraphy pen set and a new ink well so that I can do pen-and-ink artwork again, and she bought me the string needed to re-make all the semi-precious stone bracelets I've broken in the past five years. I'm excited for that- there's two chakra bracelets, tourmaline, two turqoise, smoky quartz, carnelian, citrine, and a jade bracelet to be made. Like I said earlier, it's time to get back to my crafty ways. :)

Mom and I went a little crazy on the crochet patterns, too. She and I both picked up four or five each- and as we left the store, we wondered why. We live in the Deep South where the most you'll ever need is some good galoshes and a hoodie. Heavy blankets, hats, and sweaters are not needed at all, but old Michigan habits die hard, I guess. We love to make stuff like that....it's just now, we have no reason to use it. Mom told me that she'd rather I didn't give her a reason to make crocheting a necessity again, even though she liked it- she doesn't want me to go back to Michigan unless I have a good job there. She was always afraid for me after she moved here, and I'm not sure why. She'd lived there as long as I had, but I think the difference was that she had been there with me. There are people that would tell me I'd never understand because I'm not technically a mother but-

I think that's a crock of shit, and it annoys me to no end when people tell me that. It's basically the same as saying that I've never loved someone or something so much that I want to protect it or them at all costs, that I'd die for it or them, that I've never experienced the joyous sorrow of knowing that they're all grown up, etc. Guess what, all you moms out there- there are people out there capable of having motherly love without having our vaginas go through holy hell or our bellies cut open. I've been playing "Mama" for years to people who's mothers didn't want them, didn't want to spend the time on them, never cared about them, or would never care more about their kids than themselves. Stop telling the surrogate mothers like me out there that we don't know what it's like- because we do. We cared when they didn't, we potty-trained and taught reading when "Mama" was too drunk, we fed and clothed them when "Mama" wanted to spend the money for such things on heroin and cocaine. We were there when "Mama" got so messed up that she shot herself, we were there for graduation, baseball games, ballet recitals, drivers tests, "the Talk", all those things. Mama is the best friend you'll ever have in your life- and I've done that. I've had that. I learned from the best though- I may be biased, but I've got the best mother I could ever hope for.

Rant aside, I spent the day with my mother. I couldn't spend the day with her Sunday- but I brought her a dictionary, thesaurus, and special crossword puzzle pen because my mother LOVES crosswords, and I'm all about her doing something she loves. Plus, it exercises her brain, and she's nearing 70. Brain exercise is important, no matter how old you are, but it's especially important when you start to really age.

I wonder if we get to choose our mothers- my experience says we do, because I can't think of anyone who could adequately have always handled me so well as my own dear mother. I can't think of anyone that could look at me for everything I am and say "that's good"- there's so much of "me" that the average parental unit would try to sequester. And my mother chose to cultivate those things and make them useful instead of trying to force me into someone I couldn't be. My mother is my very best friend- she's never let me down, she's not always agreed with me but still supported me and believed I had a right to think as I wanted and be who I am, and she's taught me more than any book I ever read. There are no words for the magnitude of the amazingness that my mother is. Sure, my mom is human- and that's fine with me. She forgives me for being human, and I forgive her for it too. But my Mama sure is the closest thing to God I've ever found on Earth.

Equality

2010-05-11T03:08:00.002-05:00

I thought of this a few hours ago after asking a man what inspires men to get married:

If I wanted an equal, I'd be with a woman.

True story.

Will men ever catch up?

Don't get me wrong, I like mankind- they're fabulous at so many things. Nine times out of ten, I'd rather have a male friend, I'd rather call a man to change the oil or mow the grass, I'd rather watch a blow-em-up-kill-em-all movie with a man, I'd rather be surrounded by men than women because- let's be frank, here- most women are not out to be another woman's friend.

But, when you do find a woman who does want to be good to you, too, she's a rare and beautiful thing to cherish. The few women that I know to be my friend are loyal beyond anything- they'd take a bullet or empty a chamber for me, they'd help me through anything. If I want real empathy, I go to a woman. If I want that deep down, warm-the-belly-of-your-soul comfort, I go to a woman to get it. I love womankind for so many things, and being one is just as awesome, even with having to deal with boobs.
But it's rare to see a man that can keep up with any woman. It's even rarer still to find the man smart enough to know that if you'll just let her go, she'll always fly back home. They seem so scared of our "mysterious" power that they want just to devour it and never share- but women are something to share with the world. As the Indian saying goes "women hold up half the sky"- and what will happen when we're put into cages with or without bars? Let us do our thing- the world will be much better for it.

"
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

The free bird leaps
on the back of the win
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hillfor the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

Who among us- male or female- can't relate to that? We either live it or live to avoid it.

But, there's no man who will understand this the way a woman would. There is no congruency in the minds to allow it. And we'll never really be equal because of it.

By the way, the man I asked "why do men want to get married" never could answer me. He had no idea, really, why he wanted to get married beyond "all the TV I watched as a kid made me want that life". He couldn't tell me what about it made it appealing, he couldn't even tell me why he married the woman that he did marry.

I've never heard a woman say that she had no idea why marriage seemed like such a good idea.

Failure

2010-05-08T14:28:00.004-05:00

I got a letter from Tulane today.

I didn't get in.

I'm not sure what to do. I've worked my ass off. And it's not enough.

I'm not usually a defeatist, but I feel completely fucked.

So many bad things have happened in the past few weeks. Is shit ever gonna get better?

Seriously, grandmother dying+ nephew car accident+ f4 tornado that wipes out everyone's shit+ 19-year old friend dying+ inability to pay electric bill resulting in living like the Amish (sans electricity)+denial into the college I wanted to go to so bad I could taste it= shittiest year ever. It's only May! How the hell does this much bad shit happen in five months? 2010 can go suck a cock and die.

A Need to Be Creative

2010-05-07T00:30:00.002-05:00

When I was young, I used to paint. When I say young, I mean that I started painting when I was two years old- with real, honest-to-god paint. There are mothers out there that I'm pretty sure can feel their uterus turn over and their pocketbook quiver at this idea. But I was good- I never painted on anything that wasn't paper. Not even once.
When I was a little younger than two, I discovered the Magna-Doodle in a Wal-Mart in Las Vegas. I started drawing clowns- big floppy shoes, big curly hair, pom-poms down their suits. It was a good picture in that an art professor from UNLV told my mother that she should get me into art lessons as soon as possible because I had a natural talent.

Fast forward 20-odd years. I don't paint anymore. I don't work with pastels, chalks, pens, or pencils. I don't make jewelry, clothes, pottery, crochet, make sand art, or refurbish furniture anymore. Sometimes I think it's a shame, because I was good. Mom enrolled me in every school she could find that had an excellent art department, paid for me to have extra lessons. I feel bad because I feel like I wasted her money. She always wanted me to go to art school. I chose to be a scientist. Is it the plight of all daughters to become what their mothers never anticipated?

I've decided that from now on I do a piece of art each week. I'll start small and work my way up. I remember I quit doing art when I was burned out. Maybe this will get me back into it. Sometimes it's good to revisit who you once were. In one year, I was entered into 23 art shows- and I placed in all of them. I remember my soul felt better then. I was happier, I was more peaceful. It's time to be there again.

Final of the Finals

2010-05-06T05:52:00.003-05:00

This is a week of finals. It's too bad it's not just tests.

In ten hours, I will be saying my last goodbye to Brennan and watching as people she knew do tributes in her honor. It just hit me yesterday that she's really truly gone. I'm not gonna get anymore text messages from her. I'm never going to go to Friday's with her again and have to watch the wind blow because she's eating a super rare steak that I can't even look at.

It's my final goodbye moment tomorrow. And I have no idea what to do besides sit. Her life was unfortunately short, but man, this girl.....she brought it all together. Nobody can ever say she lived in vain- she was everyone's best friend, the girl everyone called to go have fun, the girl you could talk to about anything and she wasn't going to judge you. She was hilariously funny and as deep as a spring-fed well. Amazing girl. I figure God took her back because she's too good to just have one of her- s/he needed a mold, a model, to bring more people like that here to Earth. Or at least that's what I hope- I hate hearing people basically say that God's jealous and he takes away the good people because he wants them for himself. That's such a four-year-old move, and I'm hoping God isn't like that. More Brennans is a good thing- and God is good. So, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. I refuse to believe God's an asshole. And that's my final say on that.

A Day Down

2010-05-04T21:23:00.002-05:00

Final paper on Edgar Allan Poe- check.
Final laboratory test- check.

Math Final- still to be done.
Piano Final- still to be done.
One last paper for English- still to be done.

Am I ready to be done? Check.

This is how I feel about school right now:

i
This may be my newest guilty pleasure- and I couldn't give a shit less if everyone knows it. Gaga could easily be the best of all possible worlds when it comes to pop music. Listen to her- Cher and Madonna are clearly influences. Look at her- you can see where she was inspired by Bob Mackie and those creepy haute dolls. The best part- she actually is a musician. Granted, most of this particular song is all done digitally, but she plays the piano and writes music.

However, Eric Cartman probably trumps her in the delivery of "Poker Face":

Enjoy. I soooo did.

Something Good

2010-05-04T01:57:00.002-05:00

I'm the kind that, in a strenuous situation, I keep my head on straight and my feelings under wraps (at least when I'm dealing with other people that I care about). It all passes, right?
But in the meantime, I grasp for the small things to serve as beacons of good. My friend Travis once told me: we all live in the dark, with a great big window in front of us that doesn't let light it. Only when the window is broken will light shine through the cracks."
So, I decided to make a list of good things:

1. I successfully made four loaves of banana bread.
2. The fire in the oven caused by the first attempt at banana bread making wasn't so bad, and in a week or so, it'll be a hilarious story.
3. There is consistency in my life- I always end up setting something on fire when I bake because the thing that I'm baking wants to rise up and eat the stove above it.
4. I've never had a cake of any sort or bread go flat.
5. Finals week will be over before I know it.
6. I can sleep all I want as soon as finals are over.
7. I've met new people through a tragedy.
8. I'm becoming more and more patient each day, as each day becomes more irritating and I refuse to lose my cool over it.
9. My grandmother is being moved down here. I won't have to travel so far to see her.
10. My puppies still love me.
11. Little Boy is getting better on a leash.
12. My poinsetta is somehow still alive.
12. My peace lillies bloomed.
13. The rain is washing away all the pollen outside.
14. My mama bought me groceries, so I have food for the next month!
15. I'm becoming better friends with my old biology instructor, and it's always nice to talk to someone "in the know" about science
16. I help the learning disabled with their classes and preparing for tests. When they get a good grade on their finals, they'll be super happy and I will have accomplished something good.
17. I made my recently deceased friend's mother laugh today. I've been terribly worried about her- if she can laugh, she'll be okay.
18. I vacuumed out my car.
19. There's new grass growing in my backyard.
20. I may be overworked now, but in two months, it'll all be worth it when I get two diplomas of graduation.

There are moments when it's hard to make these kinds of lists. It is in those moments that remembering what is good is of the most importance.

Healing at the Titty Bar

2010-04-28T01:21:00.002-05:00

A good friend of mine died on Saturday afternoon from cancer. She was nineteen years old- and one of the most amazing people EVER. Another friend of mine and I had intended to visit her that afternoon. While I was in the shower, the phone rang, and it was A (the another friend)- hyperventilating, asking what to do, talking at ninety miles an hour. I was mid-stroke on my right calf with a razor, and I stood in the shower and told her to "breathe, smoke a cigarette, and call Sue back when she was done, maybe she didn't hear right". "A" took my advice, and as I exited the shower and put a towel around me, I got another call: "I heard right. We're too late." We were too late by thirty minutes.

But, I headed into town anyway to pick up A, because she was hysterical. I've seen too much death to get outwardly worked up, but my insides felt like they'd been vacuumed out. We went to our friend's mother's house- and my heart broke there. Sorry, don't really want to say what that was like.

We spent Sunday and Monday cracking her computer and scrolling through thousands (literally) of songs to find the right music for her funeral because that responsibility fell to us.
Today, we were finished with the business of death. I had plenty to distract me- lots of schoolwork. A didn't have anything to distract her at all- she sat in the house and did nothing. She called upset because her boyfriend was trying to get her out of the house. When I called her later, she was at Olive Garden. As I ate an ice cream sammich at a gas station, I got this call: "Hey, whatcha doin?" (A)
"I'm eatin' an ice cream sammich at the Shell station. What are you doin'?" (Me)
"We're headed to Teasers. Wanna come?"
I pondered this- I have never gone to a strip club here- and in fact, I was very wary of it. Alabama ain't Michigan in any way, shape, form, or fashion, and I didn't expect that this would change at a strip club.
"Maybe. What's the door?"
"Um....five bucks. I just wanna go get blasted, man. I need it."
It became clear to me that this was A's way of not thinking about all this. Ever in pursuit of making life a little more bearable, I agreed to meet her at the club. I went into the gas station, pulled 20 from an ATM, and off I went.
A and I came with boyfriends in tow. We sat down, had a lemon drop, then it was pitchers of beer. We talked about the awesome tattoos we're going to get to commemorate our friend, we laughed a lot, lots of jokes, etc. It was like going to dinner with friends- with 90% naked girls in the background. Granted there were a few that I couldn't not look at- it was kinda like a trainwreck on a pole sometimes. But, most of the time, it was just background.
That is, until one came into the foreground. And that went something like this:
Stripper stalks up to us: "So, why'd you come here?"
We look at her in confusion and disbelief.
"Seriously, do you think this is a bar? This isn't a free show. You come here and drink and you don't tip anyone."
A: "This is a bar."
Stripper: "You and your little friends need to finish your drinks and get out of here. Seriously. We don't need you around here. You don't pay."
We had bought about $40 dollars worth of alcohol and paid $20 to get in- we spent money. There is a fully stocked bar with a bartender, and there are tables to sit down at- all the chairs are not at the stage.
Once I got over my shock, rage overcame me. (I shouldn't drink beer.) I wanted to rip the girl's face off just out of principle. I looked at A: "well, we still have a half a pitcher left. We'll leave when it's gone. And Imma wait for her to come back- she won't catch me offguard again."

Seriously, who gets insulted by a stripper who's working and trying to make money?
Apparently, we do.

But then, a few minutes later, a girl comes up to me. "You've got the prettiest hair. I wish I could get mine to do that- I want your hair..." so on and so forth. She was so nice to all of us- the girls and the boys. She and I continued to have a conversation, then she left to give the dj her music, and got on stage to dance. We gathered every dollar we had and gave it all to her- just because she was so nice. (She motorboated me at the stage, but I just laughed and asked why that always happens- she told me it was because they're pretty.) No, I don't think she had the hots for me.
We finished our beer, and walked out, but not before I told on Shitty Stripper. He promised me it would be handled. I'm sure it will be.

But either way, we all left feeling better about life. It's funny how beer, some good jokes and conversation, and a bunch of naked girls (10 naked girls and 2 ugly ones....that's what the sign says) can do that.

The Quitter

2010-04-22T23:32:00.001-05:00

In honor of Earth Day, I quit smoking. It's been a whole day. I figure it's worth a shot- I mean, I'll quit polluting the earth and my body at the same time, and save myself about two hundred bucks a month. That's nothing to complain about.....I just have abnormally high levels of energy now. Like....it's 1 in the morning and I feel like I could run a marathon if my lungs would just stop feeling like they were the size of beans.
I don't know how well I'm going to be able to cope at work tomorrow with no refuge from the insanity that place is- maybe I'll be able to zen master it and ignore everything and keep myself on track.
If I can just make it through these next few days....I'll believe in myself more.

I ate a bunch of cookies today, trying to avoid the temptation to get in the car and go buy a pack of smokes. That is not conducive to my not being a fat-ass anymore, but whatever...first things first, and being able to breathe well is important. Can't do anything if I can't breathe. So, in the long run, I suppose I can justify my cookie binge as collateral damage while still managing to maintain the goal of becoming healthy.

I wish it were safe to go for a walk at this time of night- I'd totally put the pups on leashes and go!

Lovely Things

2010-04-19T01:13:00.002-05:00

My landlady approved me for a garden today. That means lots and lots of veggies. I'm really excited. I love to grow things. Thus so far, the okra, the corn, the chives, echinecea (sp?), and the bell peppers have started to pop up out of their little starter pods. It always makes me excited to see new living things. I jumped the gun a little and did about fifty seedling pods before she ever told me whether or not I could till up the yard, but i had a plan just in case she said no. I was going to build big boxes out of old wood pallets and dump them full of dirt...and they were going to live in the front yard. :) But, I will not have to resort to such actions. That lady didn't know it, but I was going to have my garden one way or another.

I like my job again- mostly because I'm not working with people so much as I am working with stuff- all manners of odds and ends, much of it useless and most of it fun. It's amazing at how much just a change in position has improved my quality of life and my mood. I actually like to work, and I hate hating my job- so, getting something I actually like is sooooo good.

My house is clean. I love that. I've been able to open up windows and doors and let in all the fresh air.

This semester is nearly done, and I get to move on to something new. I'm that much closer to being finished with school, achieving my goals.

Sometimes, it's the simple things that can make such a huge difference.