I miss you

Danger, beware of undertoe...

Clearly, I need an editor. :)  I think everyone needs an editor, actually.  I know my potential editors out there cringe about my blatant disregard for certain rules of grammar.  I am  famous for not punctuating or capitalizing. (and for starting sentences with And and But)(and so) (and for not putting things in quotation marks when they should be) (and for over using elipses) (and parenthetical statements)  But spelling is a thing for me. so color me horrified.

 (this random post refers to stupid misspellings I made on one of my more profound posts.    email me for f*ck's sake, when you see such things.)

Choosing to believe

...cliff got up early (cant drag his ass out of bed during the week) to play xbox in peace. He was up at least 2 hours all alone and never noticed the Easter baskets that are on the same side of the room as he is.  So Mandy and I get up and I point out the baskets.  Happy Chaos ensues. Take the dogs out, I say. So they leash up the beasts and go out.  More chaos outside and they come bursting in babbling nonsense through chocolate filled mouths. "mom!!!! The Easter bunny left jelly beans all over the porch, and next door! HE'S REAL!!"

the porch sprinkling is a tradition I made up.  I personally leave behind glitter. Santa leaves cookie crumbs. (The tooth fairy is still a freaking no show cuz no one will ever lose teeth here) the leprechauns leave money (though they creep me out so I've not called them in a while)  and the EB leaves behind jelly beans.

I didn't know this would be the irrefutable proof that he's real. And my heart is so warmed because cliff is 9.  Hanging on to these beliefs is hard when 5 year olds are more sophisticated than we were in college.

Last night I was feeling blue for inspecific reasons and was texting with a friend, who then called me.  He was trying to get to the heart of my mood and made a few suggestions about taking care of myself.  Yes, I allowed someone to suggest something to me.  Phenomenal. But anyway.  We were talking about how we used to believe in fairy tale life and love.  And he said, you know what... believe anyway.  Just do it.
ok. I'm gonna.

 I'm gonna find the jelly beans in my life and choose to believe.

Buy me the wrong card.. please!

I was musing about "dating" with someone today...

The reason relationships are easy when you're 20 is because you are fearless. You see someone, you dig them, you fall in love, you fight about who spends more time at whose apartment and how the birthday card was wrong and then you have sex and get over it. Until you break up.

But you carry those things into your next relationship. And she wont spend weekends at his apartment. And he never buys her card for anything. And their theories and jaded points of view are validated.

And they break up.

Then they meet someone who blows their socks off. And despite their best efforts to remain guarded the walls crumble and they have a profound connection and deep relationship. And it is life changing. Until someone errs just too far and everyones hearts explode.

Theennnn they spend so long trying to re create that passion and connection they miss out on six other possible relationships because their bags are so packed with their expectations for how things Should be there is no room for a carry on of how things Could be. 

And there we are in the singles airport full of 30 and 40 somethings who are desperate to get on a plane but they dont know how to check their bags and are afraid to try. Cuz what if the plane crashes? What if it ends up in the wrong place? What if there's an ungodly layover? Never thinking- what if I end up somewhere more amazing than I thought I would. Fear holds everyones walls in place.

Change is possible. Acceptance is necessary. Letting go of expectations is very difficult. Courage is rare. Loneliness is familiar. 

So we wander around the singles airport like tom hanks in that movie where he is trapped there. Just living on familiar dysfuction and shallow communication because everyone is scared to death to repeat the past. And yet we all are.

I think I need a drink now.

LOVE

You know, honestly I hated to post a blog today because I really like my last blog and would like it to permanently appear on my blog somewhere because it feels lovely.  Its feels lovely to wish all that for you, and to think of you wishing that for others, or me.  I have recently learned how powerful it is when we really encourage and affirm one another in a real way.

Anyway, I hated to displace the loveliness but felt compelled to write.  I used to do so much writing and now I do so little.  now if I could channel this into THE BOOK.

I have an outline for it!! progress, yes?

ok whatever.

anyway. lots of action on facebook today regarding gay marriage rights.  lots of red equal sign pictures and talk of solidarity and what not.  rainbows.  ribbons.  declarative statements. lots.

but with that always comes the "chick-fil-a effect".   phrases like "demonization" and "traditional values" and "God's will" thrown about like angry confetti.  So I feel compelled to say this:  LOVE.

you can't fight hate with hate. you can't fight injustice with injustice.  you can't fight anger with anger.  or fire with fire.  seriously. what happens if you fight fire with fire? DUH PEOPLE.  all kinds of shit burns down.  its fucking hot and destructive  duuuurrrrrr.   Likewise, if you respond to angry words and ideas with anger, what comes of that?? more anger.   where you encounter hate, insert love.  where you encounter injustice, be just.  where you encounter prejudice, let go of YOURS.   where you feel judged, examine your own judgements.

None of that paragraph is directed at either side of 'the argument'.  Its universal.  LOVE ONE ANOTHER.  It was not I who gave us that phrase!

No we don't have to agree. yes we can have vastly different feelings on things. Beliefs are hardly ever dispassionate.  But angry posting from either side really does nothing.  Where there is no love, even though all the talk is about love, BE THE LOVE.

I think most of my readers know where I stand on this issue.  But I am not making that an outstanding point because that IS the point.  Be the love. Give love. Accept love. Encourage love.  Create love.  Nurture love.  Take the love.  Make love. Feel love.  ITS LOVE!  

does it really matter what it looks like?

We do NOT have to agree.  We do not have to all believe the same things.  We do not need to convince each other of anything. Nor condemn each other.  Nor scandalize, demonize, scrutinize, ostracize, and lots of other "ize"es. 

We are all connected. so very connected.  have you not experienced yet how small and amazingly interconnected our little worlds are? I am daily awed at how I am connected to the people I interact with daily.  What you give, you receive.  What you reap, you sow.  Love one another.   Its like loving yourself.  We are all connected.  Be kind and gentle.  Jesus was not always subtle, this is a fact.  He didn't exactly fly under the radar all the time.  He did stir up some stuff where he traveled.  But he was also all inclusive.  he hung out with the hookers, lepers, tax collectors, widows, and all manner of "unacceptable" folk.  Because He IS LOVE.  and LOVE has no prejudice.

big picture people.  big picture.  what is important when you leave this earth for the next portion of your journey? what will be your "take home" lesson? I met a lady who's take home lesson was "can do".  It was the only words she had left in the end, and as I learned at her funeral, it was pretty much how she lived her life.  she changed mine.  You can and will have the ability to profoundly impact people during your time here. You probably already have.  what is your take home lesson?

I wish for you...love. 

I wish for you

If you are reading this, I wish for you:

to have a moment today of pleasure that is only yours.  

to eat something that blows your top

to laugh so hard it almost hurts your face

to feel clarity and peace about something that is bothering you

to feel safe today, and tomorrow and beyond

to receive something miraculous or surprising and wonderful

to be touched by something beautiful in a way that wakes up a portion of your heart that has been sleeping

to feel loved

to smell something that blasts you into a memory

to have enough of everything right now

to accept yourself, just as you are, perfect, in this exact moment

to reach out to someone that perhaps you've been afraid to reach out to.  Take a chance. Do and say what needs to be done and said.  don't let another day go by.  do it.  

to look up today, or tonight, and realize how big, and yet small our world is.  Marvel.  Ponder. 

to dance, perhaps badly, but to do so with abandon and joy

to dream

to believe

and I wish for you to wish these things for someone else.  I would love for you to post your wishes in the comments.  Positive affirmations are difficult to muster for ourselves sometimes.  But we can do it for each other too.   

Have I mentioned lately...

How blessed I am?

First of all, my kids are ah-may-zing.  They are SO freaking funny.  Some days, its all I can do to get through the day just to get to pick them up!  Usually Cliff is a mess when he gets in my car. I don't mean dirty. I mean, yes. He looks like he rolled his face around on the blacktop.  But he's always emo, and pissy and starving like he just got out of a prison. He takes his black disgusting hands and eats whatever snacks I have in my car.   But he's always mad or upset or pissy or ...he's like a pre-menstrual girl.

Mandy is hilarious.  I call her the Hobbit because she never stops eating!  ever. and she's hilarious. cliff is funny too. but Cliff is like Jack Tripper from Three's Company...remember that show? yeah. That's Cliff.  Jerry Lewis+Jack Tripper+Spiderman+Seinfeld.

But Mandy...says things like this:

Me: Mandy, you are going to behave and have manners in the restaurant, right???!
Mandy: Yep.  I'll put my crazy in my pocket.

This explains so much.  Cuz I never have pockets. Ever.   I do have a might big purse though so maybe that's where I should keep my crazy.

So I'm super blessed with those babies of mine.

I have everything I need in my life. I can't complain. I mean..yes...I can.  I do.  Hello, have we met? yeah I complain.  But whatever. On the flip side of the whining is gratitude.

I have a great car, which I mused about trading in/down sizing.  But the dealer made me the stupidest deal EVAH so ...nope.

I love my apartment.  gypsy camp.  I'll explain that another time.

I have myriad blessings.

And I feel good things coming.

and as far as my pissy pillow post...I'm less pissy now.  Just sometimes...sometimes...I need to receive.  I used to suck at receiving. But I've learned to do it. and now I need it.  we all do. sometimes my tank runs empty and people keep pulling up to make a withdrawal and then I have a hissy fit.
 The truth is, for the people I love, I am happy to be their soft place to fall, and I would not have it any other way.  But there are people who do a lot of taking and not a lot of giving.  Sometimes its just a phase or an era or circumstances in their life.  sometimes its just the nature of the person.  sometimes I just gotta call a time out and tell everyone to get the eff off my pillow.

But I'm blessed with the family and friends I have and with the life I live.





 

I Love Paris in the Spring Time

I thought about Paris, and Tuscany, and Fiji today.  I let myself go there. 

I love the memories of those places, and what waits for me there, in quiet corners of hopeful cafes and on picturesque balconies, and white sandy beaches, and oceanside bungalows.  

I will go there again.

Pillow No More

The fact is, I am a loving, giving, nurturing person.  I feel this is my calling in life.  But sometimes you reach a point where you are not receiving anything and you find yourself not really in a hug, but just being leaned on.  a pillow.  a soft place to fall. a comfy place to lay your head and cry when life is mean to you. 

And I will stroke your hair and tell you its all ok and soothe you and sing to you and do what I do.  And you will just take it.  just take.  and then when you feel rested you will get up and go about the choices you've made...until you're tired again.  Then you will seek me out when you want to feel better, you'll call and tell me how hard everything is, and then leave again when you feel better. 

I don't want to be that pillow anymore

Likewise, I am tired of being the punching bag pillow.  When life is shit and you have no control over anything at all, and I just happen to be there and you collapse onto me and pummel me with your rage and frustration and self loathing.  I'm tired of being beaten up by YOUR life choices.  You cry on me and rage at me and again, find solace with me, and then leave. 

Who will stand up for me? Clearly you can't stand up for yourself, so you aren't going to stand up for me.
I think I will know when I'm in the right place when someone stands up FOR ME.

In the meantime I will stand up for myself.  No more pillow. 

I may love you, but its time someone held me and didn't just lean on me. 

"Its Complicated", alright

Well I survived turning 40.  barely.  It was a little touch and go for a while.  I cried a lot.  I know its silly.  Its just a number.  yeah yeah.  Its not the number.  Its that I'm on the 2nd half of my life now.  My divorce just finalized.  starting over.  trying desperately to grab my place in life. trying to be ok.  trying to be better.  None of this is what I thought this part of my life would be.  But it is beautiful in and of its own right.  This morning I was thinking about what a struggle love has been for me.  I keep bumping into the same blockade and its reminds me how fragile and complicated life is.  Beautiful, but complicated and frustrating.

remember when things were simple? we didn't think they were, but they were.  you met someone and fell in love and then fought about valentines day and made out and loved each other and fought about his or her stupid friends at that whatever party that one time, and made out and loved each other, and fought about how you went to his/her house more than he/she came to yours and you made out and loved each other?   I remember that.

you meet.  you flirt.  you date.  you fall in love.  you overcame whatever relatively minor obstacles there are and you love each other.

and then life happens.  sometimes in your 30s you enter real life.

and you fall in love with someone whose ex wife is gravely ill.  (yes. I edited that for you.  I don't wish the previous verb on you and I regret using it so cavalierly. )    It doesn't get a whole lot more complicated than that.  I mean, yes, we could be living in a refugee camp, patrolled by nazis, eating scraps of paper and staring at each other through a fence.  Ok.  Don't fuck with my emo emily dickenson flare, please.

I am grateful for the freedom I have now that I didn't have in Part I of "my life" for various reasons.  I am free to BE who I am and I believe that that person is about to burst onto the dance floor of "my life, part II" and bust a move somethin fierce.  And I do think that love will work itself out.  But dude.  This song is hard to dance to.  Its like ska.  there's a beat, but it gives me a headache. and its repetitive.  and I don't get the lyrics so I don't know what the damn story is.  and I'm sweaty and my feet hurt.  If the song rocked I wouldn't care about sweat and pain.  But the song sucks. and the drinks are watered down. And the crowd is dressed badly.  And I want to go home and get in bed and watch my DVR....with ...him. 

so yeah...its complicated.  word.

Staring at 40...

Hey, I'm back. Did anyone notice I was gone? Not likely since I post something about once a millenia.
I temporarily took this blog down because I was working on a fund raiser, with a blog next door to this one, as it were. And I didn't want unnecessary attention on my personal life, personal drama, whining, etc.

I haven't felt like I had much to say. But on the way home tonight, a Paramore song came on.  Most major epochs in my life have a soundtrack.  Paramore was my go to music right after I split with my husband...for about a year I guess...

Music penetrates my being deeply. If you need a Beavis and Butthead moment to process the word penetrates, go ahead now.
no? just me? OK fine.

Anyway, I heard this song and it didn't just REMIND me what that time felt like...I could FEEL what I felt during that time. I also did a lot of driving around in that time.  Driving has always been my zen thing.  All my great inspirations for art and projects and life and clarity come when I am driving and rockin out. Anyway, the song took me back. And I realize that I whine and bitch a lot about my current station in life.  I describe this chapter of my life as "running under water".  Working hard without much progress and lots of fatigue.  But I do realize how far I have come. I am much healthier. I am much happier. I am much better off. I am much more stable. My life is much better overall.   I have just never had to work this hard to ....survive.  But what the eff choice do I have, right? I wish this kind of spiritual work burned calories, cuz DAYUM I'd be a fit-ass redhead.

So..yeah...I've come a long way baby.

I'm gonna be 40 in 5 days.  I'm not super thrilled about it.

 (see the kid in the background?)
But I am OK.  My 30th birthday sucked ass.  I am always disappointed on my birthday. I try try try to not set myself up for that, but I do anyway, somehow.  There is always someone that I really hope will come through for me, and inevitably, they let me down. Sometimes because they are a fucktard, and sometimes because life just doesn't cooperate for any of us the way we'd like.   So ...40.  I am not where I'd like to be. I'm not where I thought I would be at 40.  But I have had some side trips on the way here that were well worth the bumpy ride.

And that ^^^  is the truth. I don't at all FEEL 40. I'm not sure what its supposed to feel like, honestly. But this can't be it.  I am still child like and silly and full of ridiculous romantic notions about life and...I can lift my leg up by my head-ish.   I like to speak with an English accent for no real reason at random times and I still believe that amazing things are possible in life.  Course, none of them happen to ME, but I know they are possible.

I feel like I am right on the edge of glory, to quote our favorite meat wearing performance artist.  In many areas of my life I feel like things are just about to happen.  That whole running under water thing is really fucking annoying when you can see your goal.  But...it is what it is.

Did I just say that? good lord!

The world is a scary and weird and jacked up place these days.  and my life is far from perfect. And my relationships are challenging.  And I'm waiting for my moment of greatness opportunities...waiting...waiting...waiting...  Its like the longest pregnancy in the universe...and I'm gonna give birth to a life that I love...someday.

For now, I feel blessed to be surrounded by amazing friends who REALLY get me  (God help them for what that says about them), who love me for who I am in all my boo-hooey effusive horoscopey crazyiness, who make me laugh, who can laugh with me and at me when necessary, who provide me with wine and vodka at appropriate times, who would play with my hair if I asked really nice (though I am still waiting for my amazing gay husband to show up on the scene. I think I met him in Albertsons the other day.  I wanted to follow him home.  He touched me and used the word "transdermal". I swooned. ) , and who support me no matter what.  I have made some new friends in the last year who have enriched and blessed my life and who have become my cheerleaders and encouragers, out of no where.  They love me as though I am almost sane, and I'm so grateful that they wandered into my path while I galloped along on my unicorn.  Old friends have returned as well, and with the brought this weird sense of completeness and closure and reminders that I am still the person I was and that I was pretty fucking awesome then too.   (I can say that cuz I have cheerleaders!)  My family accepts me and loves me and supports me regardless of how much xanax they require to do it.  And my sisters from non-birth are included in that statement.  My children bless me with laughter and love every single day.  My son asked me this morning if the Britney song we were listening to (because Yes, I am, in fact, mother of the year) just said  "c3p0 peed"??  They analyze my love life with laser accuracy (I am a grrrrr friend because I'm not quite his girl friend and I'm a little disgruntled about it) and they tell me I'm beautiful and amazing and have superhuman qualities, and they too speak with accents.  Its all pretty cool.

Happy 40th to me.  Drinks are on me... meaning, I've probably tripped and spilled them on myself in my trademark fashion. I can't afford to buy all you losers drinks!

Finding things in drawers and purses

I LOVE it when I find things that I have written a ways back and they are a-ha moments.

Recently I found a note I wrote to "My Future Love".  The date is interesting.  That's all you'll get.

But THIS I found in an email from March of 2010.  A beautiful and quirky and melodramatic (it wouldn't be mine otherwise, right?)  reminder of how far I have come. 

The size of the hole in my heart
Keeps changing and moving about
Its as big as the room we are in
Its sometimes bigger than my heart itself
A black hole hole that threatens to suck in
Anything that comes near enough to care
A vacuum of emotion
And infinite amount of pain
Bending space and time
To its will
I became accustomed to its chaos
And to its constant company
The hole made me whole
Then the size of the hole in my heart
Started to close slowly up one day
I felt like maybe I was losing myself
I was clamoring to keep the hole whole
But it was shrinking
I could do nothing
How was this happening?
Instead of losing myself
I was found
I had been inside the hole
The whole time
With only the pain to remind me
That I was really alive
Despite how I felt or wanted to be
Now the size of the hole in my heart
is not greater than the sum of the parts
I found myself happy today
And my chest gave a great throb
The world turn sideways for a moment
And the sickening sucking sound
From the hole in my heart
Ceased.
I am whole again.

My new nirvana?

It seems to me that the public library is a fascinating place. A final frontier for manners. A quiet place of learning. A truly anachronistic entity in these times of virtual everything.
I have only recently, to my shame, introduced my children to it. How amazing it is to them. A big vaulted ceiling place FULL of books. two stories. Elevators. Computers. Kind and gentle people, a dying breed of their own, who politely tell you where you can find a book on muppet cookies or ninja dinosaurs or chakra healing. They will even take you there. And if you are 9 they will coach you thru the Dewey decimal system. (If you are 39 they will also.)

I went today only to return the kids last haul. But while in line found two books that I was instantly drawn to. And I am not drawn to books. Reading requires sitting still. This is not my forte. My forte is dirtying excessive numbers of dishes while I dance around the kitchen creating heavenly masterpieces of protein and starch.

One book is called "the other Wes Moore". It's about two boys named Wes Moore, born one year apart within a block of each other. One ends up in DC, the other in prison.

I haven't even read the book and I'm fascinated. It's about how the choices we make affect our path. And it's about how the choices we make affect our children's paths.

How close I came to making some choices that could have profoundly affected my children in negative ways. I have probably missed some that could have benefitted us all. But so far on this middle path we are ok. Just ok. Which I hope to improve soon.

So I approach the counter to do my checking in and checking out of books and it occurs to me that library people are so odd. Why? Because they are so professional and polished and precise and genteel. Some are socially a bit unpracticed. But so nice. Customer service for every bank in the country should be trained at the library.

I take out my kids' library cards. They have their own cards. What a cool thing when you're a kid. What a wondrous place is this library joint.

She scans their cards to check for outstanding books ("the backpack effect" is what I called it). "All clear!" she notes happily with an upward lilt in her voice. We share a tiny moment of victory together, me and freakishly friendly library lady, and she cheerily hands me my stack and informs me of my due dates.

I think the library makes me happy. It's like entering some other world. You leave behind the gritty horn honking email sending volume adjustable world of grumpiness and you enter this solitude of four walls that is filled with hundreds of years of words and knowledge and epiphanies and journeys and stories and pictures. It's like standing in a wrinkle of time and space.

I wonder what the other Kelly is doing?

The other cliff or Mandy?

I wonder what my journey looks like on a GPS map? I bet Dramamine is recommended. Notice the word 'drama' in there. Hmmm.

The library. My new nirvana.

Its coming!!!

People!!! Listen.  

I'm cookin something up.  My friends are helping me. Its gonna be very coooooool.   You want to be involved.  I need you to be involved.  Its gonna be really great!!

Get excited with me!  I know you don't know what I'm talking about yet...just do what I say!

Stay tuned!!

What Chapter am I on??

I did not write this. but I wish I had. Nonetheless, it is wise words that I remind myself of often.  I am not sure which chapter I am on.  Sometimes 3, sometimes 4. 





AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN FIVE SHORT CHAPTERS
BY PORTIA NELSON

Chapter 1

I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost… I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter 2

I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend that I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in this same place.
But, it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter 3

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit … but, my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

Chapter 4

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter 5

I walk down another street.

Compassion, Life Experience, and Love.

Once in awhile life sort of forces me to deal with something. Like a flu.  I get heart sick. I develop a fever. then I start vomiting out my truth.  then I lie around in bed crying and writhing for a couple days and then I'm back.  This is how I am.  Its not a process I invented. I'm not super fond of it. My mother has been trying to medicate it since I was 18.  My friends are made uncomfortable by it.  No one likes to see their loved one in pain of any kind. 

Other people are made uncomfortable by it because it reminds them of something. Maybe that they have a truth to deal with, or that they don't have the capacity to feel that way.  Or...whatever. 

But the flavors of "support" I get are always fascinating.  Like when you are pregnant and everyone has some kind of kooky advice for you.  Don't wear pantyhose, the baby will suffocate.  Don't cry, it makes you seem weak.  mmmkay.  Can I borrow those pantyhose??

One of the many things I have learned about in hospice is compassion.  Sure, I certainly had compassion when I signed up.  But I learned truly what it is.  And how it works. And one of the facets of compassion is meeting the other person where they are.  Truly where they are and not where you think they should be. 

When you are dealing with a patient with a terminal disease, it does little good to comfort them with silly "there there you're ok"s.    You just shut up and listen. When the brain is affected and when they insist they are on a boat in France in 1947 with a man named Luke, and they just did a jewelry heist and her hair is the sexiest shade of purple ever, and the staff at the hospital makes her scrub toilets with a toothbrush and eat paste, well then you meet her IN that reality.  You don't try to convince her that's wrong. Because she'll pick up her community dining hall cup and smack you in the head.  It is her reality at that moment.  Let it be hers.  Comfort the fears or emotions that come out of that belief and meet her in HER moment, don't try to bring her to yours.

In much the same way, when I share my struggles, I do not love to hear things like "well it could be worse", "well the grass always looks greener but....", "everyone has struggles, some are worse than yours", "count your blessings, look how lucky you are", or my favorite "oh here we go, again..."

First of all, if my life experience being so raw and out there is hard for you, feel free to remove yourself from my experience.  That's all I will say about that.

Secondly, let me explain to you that you do not know what my struggles have been, or why I act the way I do in certain circumstances. 

So I will explain now...

I think I have a bit of PTSD of some variety. Because where certain events come up I think they trigger certain feelings which feel just like the feelings I had when the original event came up. That makes me think that the next thing to come is going to be ...the bomb going off.  it was just a feeling. But all my nerve endings get all prepped for the big bomb.  Its usually just a dog barking. But I'm a jumpy bitch, man.

I have known a lot of people and heard a lot of things. and a lot of things can lead a person to become a jumpy bitch. here are some possible experiences that could lead a person to be a little fucked up.

enter,  the police,a little boy crying, a bedroom turned upside down, a bullet with writing on it, and a house that was wrecked. doors and pictures shattered.  things turned over.  rubble.

the hallway, and a baby in her arms that was just a few weeks old...and there was shoving.

all the mysterious vomit in the backyard. 

empty bottles in the closet.

mysterious passing out in the shower and falling out of bed.

constant illness. The pain of walking on eggshells all the time.  constantly.

numerous phone calls over the years that someone had taken their life. Several of those may have hit very close to home.  No one should ever have to endure ONE of those, let alone multiple ones. 

But people do.  PEOPLE do experience these things. and others.

miscarriage. after months and months of deliberating whether its right, a pregnancy. joy beyond compare. And then, that news in the ultrasound room.  The horror of a D&E to remove the joy.  the friends who say "everything happens for a reason" or "well I'm sure its for the best as there must have been something wrong with it"

baby seizures and hospital stays.

joblessness. Utter joblessness.  and the hopelessness that goes with it. 

the husband and lover who swore that they would love until the ends of time, and do all the things they vowed to do.  Only not for you.

being cut off, removed, ripped away, from what was supposed to be the forever joy of union, by sickness and illness, and brokenness. 

Lonliness. unworthiness.  

constant fear of failure. fear of not making it.  fear of never ever being good enough. fear of never having enough. fear of losing everything AGAIN.

sure, those things may not seem rational from the outside.  could it be worse? of course.

I know  I wasn't born in Africa, have all my limbs and health, and million other things. and trust me, I am grateful to the point of tears every single day.  every SINGLE day!! sometimes maybe too much. sometimes I struggle to feel that I deserve all the blessings I have.  how is a gratitude journal going to work on that? when I wonder how I am worthy of anything good, how is listing it all going to help me?

was that raw enough for you? shall we exchange some trite colloquialisms now to comfort you?

here...here is my hand. you can pat it and say there there silly, you're so dramatic.  Or you can hold it and just ...be. 

Yes everyone has struggles. Some are obvious. Some are suffered in silence.  Some are not quite what you think they are, are they?  

New word needed

I've decided that a new word is needed.  This topic will seem heavy, and it is I suppose. But this just occurred to me and I am now annoyed.
I'm watching "the other Boleyn girl".  There is a pregnancy and she almost loses the child. But something about the way they say the word.  Think about it. Miscarriage of justice certainly implies that it was someone's fault.  Misogyny-Clearly is malicious.  Misappropriation (of funds) -intentional
Misinformed -not an accident.  Misled. Misguided. Misanthrope.  Misinterpret. Misbehave.

Miscarry

Having experienced one, and knowing dozens of women who've shared that horrific experience, suffered with the guilt and shame and confusion and pain, I'm nothing short of insulted by the English language in this moment.  

Just having a soapbox moment.

Wanna????

**warning, this post must be read with a valley girl accent**

heeey, OMG, remember that time last winter when we, like, collected stuff, and like, money, and that goovy diva chick gave it to people who needed it and stuff? that was cool, huh?

We should, like, totally do that again.  Riiiiight?  I think so.  yeah.  totally. So like, its August 1st and if we, like, plan and stuff, and start early, we could, like, rock it out this holiday season, couldn't we? I mean...like...yeah!

Wanna?

we can, like....wait, do you, like, have a headache from reading in this accent?

OK.

So, we can chose a cause together. Preferably local-ish, although I am also very partial to African charities which supply water and supplies that encourage self sustaining farming. Children, likely ones without parents, are also an awesome target for love. I am also partial to single working moms, or hard working families who are struggling, and I still know of a few that we were not able to help last year. a kid who needs a medical procedure...hello. Or just a family who can't afford Christmas...because no mother or father should be the one to have to tell a kid bad news about Santa!!

We could help me open a dance studio, where I could also hold seminars and classes and support groups for women and girls dealing with body issues (one of my passions), whether due to post rape, trauma, or just tragically low self esteem. We could do that. That's my vision. :)

Or we could do a homeless project again. That was just really amazing. Or a military family that has XYZ need(s). Adopt a vet!!! um...Idanno. talk to me.

And if you people come up with something, and some donations flow, we'll need a treasurer to be all official and shit.

So like, you know you wanna...

Who are you?

I went to Can-Do's memorial service this morning. Its the first funeral service I have attended for a hospice patient.  I held myself together well last week when I visited my other friend at the same facility.  But this morning I rather predictably lost it.

It was a very small service.  All but one of her 5 children where there I think.   And this is what I learned.

She loved her children and her grandchildren A LOT.  She was a devoted and supportive mother. She was, indeed, southern. She was a pastor's wife! she loved to throw her grandkids a Christmas party every year and she wrote them all a letter and gave them something of some meaning with each letter.  Her email address was "angelsong" and she apparently had a set of pipes that was to be envied.  She was in fact a teacher, a sunday school teacher, and Christian school teacher and was always very encouraging, which hearkens back to the can-do spirit.  She got an AA degree when she was 58.  And she prayed about everything...even finding parking spots.

Its funny to me that  even though I only knew her in her redefined, somewhat disabled state, that so much of that came through in my short visits with her.  I knew almost all of those things instinctively.  She had many pictures of her grandchildren displayed.  She loved giving me treats to take home to my kids and she seemed to really love the holidays.  Early in our visits I asked her about her faith and I got a story with the can-dos....she drew her hand across her mouth, and she arranged things in the air in front of her and because it seemed an involved answer, I was pretty sure that she was a woman of faith. 

Her family described a woman that I felt like I actually knew, even though I only knew her for a short time. 

It was a lovely service.  I was particularly drawn to her grand daughter, who was really emotional.  She also had fabulous taste in shoes and a stunning purse but she sobbed the whole service.  She spoke about her grandmother as her best friend, and they spent a lot of time together.  She was the grandmother I always wanted to have, truthfully.   Another granddaughter read a Christmas letter from her grandmother from 2001.  It referenced 9/11, and it was fascinating to hear words read in Can-do's own "voice".  It validated all of my feelings about her.

You know the old church song "They will know we are Christians by our love"?  Well that should be Can-do's theme...She couldn't tell me a thing about her. But all of those things that her family knew shone through in her demeanor every time I saw her.  Those were the things that made her HER, and even when her ability to speak and do much for herself was stripped away, I still knew who she was at her core.

Who are you at your core? what would shine through in you?

That's what I'm asking myself today...

Statements of the 70s' in music. (sounds like an essay huh??)

so I was listening to the album "Solid Gold of the 70's" this morning while I got ready.  I'd like to make a few observations about the decade in which I was born.

 the first song that caught my attention this morning was this one by Dr. Hook - Sharing the Night Together.
So you can watch the nauseating video below to hear the lyrics, or you can just read them below...

You're looking kinda lonely girl Would you like someone new to talk to Ah yeah, alright I'm feeling kinda lonely too If you don't mind can I sit down here beside you Ah yeah, alright
If I seem to come on too strong I hope that you will understand I say these things 'cause I'd like to know If you're as lonely as I am And if you mind
Sharing the night together, oh yeah Sharing the night together, oh yeah Sharing the night
We could bring in the morning girl If you want to go that far And if tomorrow finds us together right here The way we are Would you mind
Sharing the night together, oh yeah Sharing the night together, oh yeah Sharing the night
Would you like to dance with me and hold me You know I want to be holding you Ah yeah, alright 'Cause I like feeling like I do And I see in your eyes as you're likin' it, I'm likin' it too Ah yeah, alright
Like to get to know you better Is there a place where we can go Where we can be alone together And turn the lights down low And start
Sharing the night together, oh yeah Sharing the night together, oh yeah Sharing the night together Sharing the night together Sharing the night together Sharing the night together

So first of all, if some dude came over and said to me, "hey baby you look lonely" I would either punch him in the face, or tell him to fuck off.  Who are you to decide what the condition of my heart is, asshole!! Maybe I like solitude. Maybe I like drinking alone.  Did you see me crying into my beer? or my vodka cranberry? No.  You know why? Cuz I'm fine.  I'm not lonely.  So fuck you.  You idiot. 

At this juncture I would like to say that my readers can just keep their opinions about why I am still single to their damn selves.  

Anyway, really...who says that? "you look lonely. I'm lonely too."   Lonely is not hot.  Was it hot in the 70s?  Its lame.  And face it, many of us ARE lonely!!  but we just don't talk about it. As a matter of fact, when it comes up in conversations, women lecture each other about it. "you're not lonely.  you're fine. you need to learn how to be alone". fuck alone! alone sucks.  so yeah, I might be lonely. But if some dude swaggered over to me with this shit, I'd be out.  

And its not just this song of course. Its soooo many in the 70s. One of my favorite bands ever is the Carpenters.  And we all know Karen was a sad girl.  But holy jeez there are more songs about lonliness and heartbreak in their discography than Air Supply!! 

So there's that...GoodBye to Love. Then there's Yesterday Once More, Rainy Days and Mondays...and more.

The next song in my morning soundtrack was this one: All By Myself by Eric Carmen

Then a Melissa Manchester song came on. No matter what Melissa sang it was fucking sad.  Clowns and Circuses, love making, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches...Melissa could make you want to drink about that too. 

And then ...a break in the lonliness.  this one.  OMG.  my brain bled. And look, Its Tie a Yellow Ribbon...I  know,  its a classic.  I know its Tony and Dawn.  I give major points for the not depressing factor, and for the happy vibe.  But Bitch, please. This song sounds like something from The Wiggles!!!  That syrupy sing songy shallow melody makes me want to go all American Psycho.  And then Tiptoe around the bodies.  And its about a dude coming home from prison, (so he was probably lonely too). Why is that romantic? Was he falsely accused? Was he in the klink for killing a man that hurt his woman? we don't know. Chances are he was fucking lonely and knocked over a 7-11, assaulted a hooker, and then passed out in the park listening to the Carpenters and contemplating the meaning of life.  What...the...fuck.  Listen. I dare you.

I prefer the wiggles, frankly...

.
My morning routine was saved by Carly Simon, yet again.  With the ever classic and fabulous and not wimpy loooooonely...."You're so Vain".  YES!! Sing it Carly.  Don't tell that bastard you want him.  Even if he looks so hot in that apricot scarf and cockeyed hat. And of course I thought about my girl friends.  You know who you are, and you know why. :)

So I don't really know what the hell was going on with the lonliness in the 70's.  Its seriously a frowned upon thing now, is it not? To be lonely is to be weak and pathetic and needy.    I think its too deep for me to muster it now, but I know there's a deep thought there waiting to happen.   We are independent and disconnected now.  We are plugged into stuff and not each other.  We aren't supposed to be lonely because we are all connected by the internet.  And we have online dating. I mean, come on! Who can be lonely with online dating around? Right?!? That's not THE loneliest place on the planet or anything.

I will say this about the 70s'...people said what the meant in songs and in life.   There wasn't any ....Coldplay.  What the hell are any of his songs about? anyone?  We don't know.  We love him, but we don't get it.  Jason Mraz.  Beautiful stuff. But huh? You have to be in a coffee house to get it.  Goyte.  He sings about "somebody that I used to know".  and so does the girl.  But do they want each other back? Who the hell knows? Cuz they are dancing around the topic denying that they need anything. Yeah I loved you and I sold your records cuz you broke my heart and if you'd just apologize and give a shit, maybe I'd go get them from Frankie at the pawn shop but no, you're just standing there all proud and smug and irritated that I broke up with you because your depression is ruining my life.  You were lonely even when you were in my company! What the hell does that mean? I'm out, yo.  fuck your records.  Damien Rice's "Volcano".  I want you, but I shouldn't and I can't give you what you want and deserve and nothing you give me is enough either but I still want you so let's hurt each other".    Pretty much my theme song.

 

So...I guess the 70's were lonely.  The 80's were decadent and high on coke. The 90's were dark and flannel-y and wore lots of eyeliner, and somewhat angry and  the 2000's...? what are we? numb? mad? disillusioned? confused? afraid?  We won't really know until our kids have us figured out.  But in the meantime, say what you mean.  Unless you're lonely.  In which case...listen to the Carpenters, remove all sharp objects from your area, and go on a dating site.