Wednesday, October 24, 2012

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
I am whole again.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

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.

Friday, October 5, 2012

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!!

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

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. 


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.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

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

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

Saturday, August 11, 2012

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.


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.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012


**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!


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


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...

Monday, July 30, 2012

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...

Friday, July 27, 2012

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.  

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Can Do

I found out this morning that my Can Do friend at hospice finally passed away.  I have been with her for nearly a year. The prognosis to enter hospice must be 6 months or less.   She obviously didn't get that memo.  I think I have talked about her before, but as a refresher...she was an "end stage stroke patient".Her left arm and leg were affected by the stroke.  And her ONLY speech consisted of "yes"  "no"  "can do" and "you can do it".    I have often wondered...if a stroke or something took my ability to speak and left me with only 3 phrases, what would they be? what is so engrained in my brain to mouth freeway that it would be the only thing left? "WTF?"  "OMG" or "LOL"  "for the love!!" "good gravy marie!" ?? What kind of person is left with "can do" and "you can do it"? what did she do in her life that this is what she is left with? Stunning.

When they first assigned me to her, she was only my 3rd patient. My first 2 died very quickly. I was not sure how I would relate to a patient who could not speak. ME? How am I, the most talkative person in the northern hemisphere, going to relate to a person who can't talk? Who can't respond to what I'm saying?

I would be so wrong.  We eventually had entire conversations, and I would struggle to explain to you exactly how, but we did.

At first it was hard to figure out what she was "saying", needing, wanting.  But on our second visit, she fussed and fidgeted and was very annoyed and kept trying to get something from the Aide.  The ice cart came down the hall and she was a flurry of wheelchair activity trying to get attention. After much deliberation between myself and the ice cart aide, we determined that she wanted TWO cups of ice.  Once she had her two cups, she started fussing and pointing for me to get something - her diet Pepsi.  So I got her a pepsi.  Then she started chattering and pointing for me to sit down, so I sat down across from her.  She poured half the Pepsi in each of the cups of ice and handed one to me.

We had "tea on the porch" so to speak.  It was Pepsi in the hallway, but she was clearly hosting me.

I quickly learned that she enjoyed hearing about my somewhat nutty life.  I spared her the sordid details but I did tell her about my kids often.   She lit up when I spoke of my children.  She seemed to love them.  She sent me home on Halloween and Valentine's Day with packets of goodies for both kids.

She was always happy to see me, and with the exception of a few times when she was very ill and confused, she recognized me. She would usually sit up and say "yessssss" when she spotted me. 

And that was how we visited.  I asked her how she was. She gestured and chattered about things and I learned to tell what certain hand gestures, accompanied by "can do",  meant.  The swipe across the mouth hand gesture with "can do, can do it" usually indicated some kind of story...she was telling me how she felt, or she was remembering something.  If she reached out and touched my face or my hand and said "can do" she was clearly telling me "hello, I missed you" or something along those lines.  When she seemed to be arranging small objects in the air in front of her with "can do" it was her telling me how she felt and what was going on with her body this week.

Many times in almost a year I thought she as very close to the end.  About 3 times I was certain she was not going to make it to my next visit.  Then the next week she would be out of bed, in the dining hall, "can do'ing" and drinking her iced tea.

Iced tea and diet pepsi.  and she loved to color. She had a drawer full of crayons and markers and pencils and coloring books.

And her shoelaces were silver.  I tried my 6 inch pumps on her one time and said "do you feel sexy?"  and she laughed and did this funny "oh my goodness" hand gesture.

She was always in her clothes, not a gown. Always fully dressed, with nails polished, and usually wearing an accessory like a necklace.  She had lovely blankets on her bed, and lots of pictures in her room.  I never saw her family (her children) apart from my very first visit with her.   I'm sure her lingering and withering away was very hard on them.  She was very very thin in the end, nothing like how she looked in the beginning. But still got herself out of bed, even when she wasn't supposed to.  Still fed herself until the very end.  Still drank gallons of tea, with sweetener.  and she always stirred it.  I don't know where she was from, or what her roots were, but she sure seemed Southern to me.  

Every time I left her I hugged her and kissed her cheek and told her "Ok behave.  No wild parties. No sneaking out.  Do not go to vegas...without me".  and she would just smile and say "ooooooo noooooo, can do, can do it..."

In the last few months, I have been very conscious of telling her "I love you" when I left, because I wanted her to know it, and  was never sure how much longer she had.  I would hug her around her skinny shoulders and kind of press our cheeks together so my mouth was near her ear.  And I'd tell her to behave etc.  She would put her good hand on my other cheek, like a grandmother would, and pat it.   

In the recent weeks it was apparent that she really was near the end. But man that stubborn ol sweetheart hung on.  Her angels must have been playing tic tac toe for a long time waiting for her.  One visit she was particularly unresponsive and slumped over.  She was very agitated and upset.  So a nurse and myself spent a great deal of time trying to ascertain what she wanted and needed.   She cried a lot.

I knelt down next to her wheelchair and talked to her about my kids.  Mandy this...Cliffy that.  She smiled.  I talked a lot about what a spit fire Mandy is. I usually showed her pictures until she seemed uninterested or I ran out of new pictures.  On this occasion I didn't have any new pictures. So when I finished speaking about my kids, I said "so, I have a date tonight"  and I swear to you, she sat up, her eyes came alive, and she said "ooooooooooooo!!" and kind of chuckled and nodded a slow, knowing nod.  I laughed and looked at the nurse and said "did you see that?!"

Nearly every weekend for a year I have heard her saying "can do, you can do it".  I will always hear her saying that.  And I will take that with me forever.

Its going to take some time for this one to sink in, for sure.  I am going to visit my other patient friend on Friday and it will be really strange to be there without her.

  God Bless you, my Can Do friend.   You will always be with me and I love you.  

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Cage vs. Sky

I was musing on the way to work about balance.   Specifically I was thinking about the inverse relationship between security and freedom.  This thought was actually not at all spawned by political discussions, but it occurred to me after I had applied this to relationships in my life that its exactly what we are struggling with in this country (among other things).   When you have total security, you have very little freedom or autonomy - like a baby being held by its mother.  When you have total autonomy and freedom, you have very little security but what you can provide for yourself.  But as you know, providing your own security doesn't make you feel safe. It makes you feel tense and on edge.  Its nice to be taken care of a bit, isn't it? Of course.
The trick is finding that balance between  the two extremes.  

What do I want out of a relationship, should life ever grant me one ever again (eye rolling at the universe)?  Do I want to feel totally protected like a sweet damsel?  The idea is really appealing sometimes. But in those little fantasies I tend to forget that that kind of protection comes with a price...personal freedom.  If I have a man who loves me in a chest pounding I will protect you from all harm and danger kind of way, I tend to not have the freedom to be myself and the crazy free bird that I am. 

If I succeed in being the colorful wild bird, gifted with flight and song and blah blah blah, free to soar and free to explore and free to go, I am exposed. 

Ultimately I guess, I want to fly, and have a safe place to land. I don't need someone to put me in a cage for my own protection. Or carry me around all day.  I want to be admired for my gift of flight, and then have company on my perch. 

The same is true of jobs.   There is that struggle for balance between freedom and security.  

Its a pendulum.  It swings to either extreme.   And ultimately it should be right in the middle.  There is a third option, which sort of represents my former marriage...and that is that if the pendulum can't push the energy one way or the other, it will push everything down, so that you have neither security nor freedom.  I think in some eras of my marriage I had security, but rarely freedom.

When you push something down it will eventually bounce back.  The laws of physics. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. I was pushed down, and eventually I pushed back.  I gained freedom, lost all security, and now I'm trying to find the middle ground. The middle way.  The middle path.  ouuuuuummmmmmm

Balance in all things I suppose. 

Geez life is a pain in the ass. So beautiful sometimes.  But damnit a pain in the ass!!

Monday, June 25, 2012

On Revelations at the Carwash and Crumbs

It's time for the uncomfortably candid post of the month.  (no, its not about anything anatomical, damnit.) 
I realized the other day, that I have NO faith.  My trust mechanism must have been really far more damaged than I realized, and really, let's face it - for good reason.  But I have always KNOWN without question, that God exists.  I KNOW God loves me...without question.  But I realized (at the car wash. yes) that I have NO faith in God's plans for me.  So far, I have not been a huge fan of the outcomes of many of the big events of my life.  I am tired of feeling betrayed and disappointed.  Notice I said "feeling", and not "being".  I allow myself to feel betrayed because I allow myself to BE betrayed. And truthfully, betrayal is a rather subjective thing - it is a feeling. I have not quite wrapped my head around this yet, but I know its true.

Fundamentally, I question my worth.  On the one hand, I KNOW I'm pretty cool and awesome and neat.  On the other hand, I have always always always allowed other people to determine my worth -  By how they treat me, how much they pay me, how they love me, how much attention they do or do not pay to me, how often they call me, how they kiss me, how they respond to me.  Many, if not all of those things are reflections of the other person, not of me. 

I stand here, in my life, and WANT to achieve my dreams.  And yet somewhere in my programming is a loud voice that gets in my way. A voice that tells me that I can't do it. A voice that tells me I'm not "whatever" enough to pull it off. A voice that tells me I don't have enough  x, y, or z.  A voice that tells me that I won't get the help I need to do it, because I can't rely on other people. I can't rely on other people because I can't trust other people. I can't trust other people because other people have betrayed and disappointed me.  I have been betrayed and disappointed because I allowed myself to be...  The voice tells me that I'm not "that" person...that successful, wealthy person who makes a difference in others' life. The voice says I'm small and ordinary.

I have always said, in this blog and in other circumstances, that I know when I have hit on a truth because my immediate reaction is tears.

As I typed the sentence above "I am small and ordinary" I instantly started crying.

I fundamentally, at the core of myself, feel small and ordinary.

Ironic, from the Soapbox Diva, huh? I stand here and pound my chest about this and that, and yet inside, I am a mouse. and I allow people to treat me badly, to discard me, disregard me, ignore me, upheave me, hurt me, lie to me, disappoint me, and harm me, because I am a mouse. A mouse is scared of everything. Have you ever watched one? When they exit their box or home or out from under your dishwasher, they stick their little whiskery noses out and twitchily smell around for threats. Then they gingerly put a tiny foot out and twitch some more. Then another tentative step and more twitching.  Then out of no where they break into a fast mouse run, across the room for the target  crumb.

CRUMB!!!  I have always accepted crumbs!!!

And I'm tired of that run for the crumb.  I want to exit my home, stand up, strut across my life and take the block of cheese, not race for the crumb!!

I have got to purge myself of this voice that tells me that I'm not important enough, special enough, strong enough, smart enough, resourced enough, talented enough, connected enough, loud enough, soft enough, popular enough, pretty enough, worth have what I dream of.

I have never questioned that God exists.  But I realized that I have NO faith in God's desire to give me abundance.  none.  I don't deserve abundance...of money, love, joy...whatever.


If you struggle with this, I would love and appreciate your comments.

I'm going to go have a good crying jag now. Hold my cape and my tiara....  I'll be back for them soon.

stand riiiiiiight there...

Two steps forward, one step back. and then another step. yep.perfect. say cheeeeeese!! 

I am SO sick of the scenery here. Seems no matter what I do or how good things seem, something has to always be in some state of fucked up ed ness.   I refuse to continue struggling.  I am determined to move out of this rut that sucks me under and move ON with my life.  DETERMINED. Do you hear me?? So get out of my way (said to myself) and let's get this fabulous show on the road.  I'm ready. And I'm kinda pissed, so pack some chocolate and some vodka. 

Friday, June 22, 2012

thank you to Steven Wilson of "Imagine That Graphix" in Bakersfield for my new fabulous amazing logo!! 

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Sprinkles on your vocab

One of my facebook friends was nodding with me about swearing the other day.  I started to respond to her, and realized that I have something to say on this here I am.

My mom gave up on my potty mouth in around 10th grade.  That is actually really generous. I'm sure my mom gave up on my mouth much sooner than that.  

I've never really understood the big deal about  swearing. I mean, sure...when I was in the 6th grade I probably threw out a "shit" because it was taboo.  But really once I hit Junior High, other than using them in self defense, I never really understood why they weren't allowed SOMETIMES.  To me, its just words. I rant and rave with them, but  if I'm going to hurt someone, it rarely requires cursing.  

As far as I'm concerned, curse words are are just glitter and sprinkles for my vocab.  

 :)  When I was in Jr. Hi and life was utterly  hell, my mom was really great about letting me just talk. She didn't care how I said it, so much as she wanted me to say something...anything, rather than NOT talk to her, ya know? so when "so and so was a mean bitch and this is all a bunch of fucking shit and I just want to die!!!" she listened and let me talk.    

Fuck just feels really gratifying to say, no way around it.  I truly always appreciated my mom's willingness to let me express myself. It was both with words and my appearance.  When I wore boxers sticking out of the top of my torn up jeans in 1987, and my dad's flannel shirt around my waist, she just let me.  When I needed to add some juice to my words to fully convey my angst, she let me.  

I do try to have some decorum about when I swear, or about what.  most of the time.  

But really, to me, dancing is to movement as swearing is to speaking...

Frankly, if I meet someone who absolutely does not swear, I don't really trust them.  Or people who don't like dogs. Don't trust them either really.  you fucking like dogs, we're good. 

And that, my friends, is why we fucking have this trucker mouth genius that you see here today.   Its my mom's fault. I can fucking thank my mom.  I do.  

Next, why it is my mom's fault that I am an utter slob about dishes and laundry :) 

Monday, April 23, 2012

She's baaaaaaack....

I'm BACK. I have been working like a squirrel on crack gathering nuts for the winter! Tax season has just ended, and after we got pampered and rested, I am finally able to blog. Truth is I'm so out of practice I'm not sure what to blog about, so I'll ramble like I always do.

First of all, I feel incredibly blessed. I am so flippin happy right now. I have amazing friends (for the first time in my life) who I really trust. I date, truthfully pretty regularly.

But so far it is mostly just amusing how not schooled most men are. This is what I have: men who insist that I appreciate them, men who insist on appreciating me when I don't want them to, and men who insist of emailing me about how much they'd love to fuck me. So I email them back. My tone depends on the tone of their original email. But the latest one was tame on my part (usually I hand them their ass). I told him I was more complex than just a fuck. He said he'd "like to know" and I asked "why do you want to know when my complexities don't really matter if you're just talking about fucking me anyway?" "You're really interesting" he replies. So I said "look, unless you are in love with me, or plan to sweep me off my feet, this is never going to happen. Which is disappointing because you're really attractive. Good luck."

Despite my very barbed dating profile I get a lot of wanna-fuck-me's, which I do not state with any conceit. There are just a lot of horny, mannerless, uncommittable, shallow men out there. Who like women with bodies that aren't coat hangers I guess...I don't know what it is. I mean, I dress conservatively. My pictures are not risque. I think I look pretty damn vanilla. But they see me and think "I'd love to turn her into a porn flick"???? I don't get it. Really? cuz I have an ass that automatically means I'm going to be your submissive? (I get that a lot. funny, huh? if they only knew). Frankly I find it completely insulting because this is what I think they are thinking: voluptuous woman. probably insecure. I bet I can dominate her and make her lick my boots...ETC. Well isn't that fucking funny? I would not get you coffee if you didn't ask nicely, so you can just put your stupid penis and boots away and get out of my inbox now. assholes.But I can usually see them coming (ahem no pun, cuz ewww...) a mile away now.

One of the things I have discovered is that if the man is really handsome, and from any part of Los Angeles, they are either fetishists (OMG SO common!!!) or just looking for straight up sex. I'm not sure who the women are who have set the bar this low that these men find that this approach works, but...whatever. So anyone from LA immediately gets the jaded me.

I could go on here about the other categories, but I don't really have an interest in making this my dating blog. I am saving all that for the movie. :) There is really nothing moving my heart. I have begun to wonder if I am capable of loving anyone again. I get very annoyed when anyone is in my space for more than a few minutes. I am not at all easily impressed, though I have had some very sweet gestures which ARE impressive but just don't move my heart. Once every couple months someone will make me think that maybe I will let my guard down but...nope. The disappointment is so common now that its not really even disappointing. I don't even feel hurt very much most of the time. Just annoyed. The heart wants what the heart wants and I guess I'll know it when it finds me.

So other than that work is good. its been crazy busy, as I mentioned and is probably evidenced by the long gap in entries here. There is one individual in the building who is SUCH an asshole that I daily want to pummel him. He's such a whiney bitch. I guess no work environment would be complete without such a fuckwad.

My utilization of the f-word seems to have increased. I am not currently censoring myself on this blog, though I usually try to tone it down a smidge. But right now I feel a bit "fuckitall" to all those rules and expectations.

let's see, what else? My dog is getting old and that bums me out. I really miss my cat and I want a new cat. If my dating life does not improve I'm going to get 18 cats. but I am seriously considering a new kitty. I hate cat boxes though. And claws. Inky was declawed. meh. claws. furniture. grief. meh.

I still need a new wardrobe. The shopping options in this town, while the town grows at an impressive rate, is pathetic. I know what kinds of pieces I want, and I know they are out there, and yet, they are not. Don't get me on the soapbox about plus sized fashion. Cuz it pisses me off. Apparently I am supposed to be either a lumberjack, or my grandmother. I am clearly neither.

If I could draw or sew I'd be famous. I have myriad ideas for fashion in my mind but no way to get them out.

My children are fabulous!! Mandy is getting SO damn big. She's going to outgrow her older brother any day now. Where did she get her legs?? She's wearing a 5 slim pants and she's 4. cliff is 8 and wears a 6. holy crap she's just getting SO big. Cliffy got glasses and looks adorable. he looks just like Harry Potter! only cuter. :)

Everything else is good. I am just really happy and content. I have a bunch of projects that I want to do this summer. Should I put them here so I can be accountable? ewww. I hate accountability!!

I want to redo the kids' room. That entails getting a lot of crap out of their closet and putting a lot of stuff in storage. sigh. yuk. I need a truck. and help. BLECH.

I need to get my own closet in order.

I need to clean out/get rid of the giant file cabinet in my front closet. I need to purge and organize a shit ton of documents as well. I need a mobile shred truck handy.

I need to get my wardrobe in order. But I also need to shed about 20 pounds and I'm stuck on the wardrobe part cuz of the latter part.

I need to get things organized at the office too.

I want to start baking again. I have a bunch of recipes in my head that I haven't had time to do anything with. I also don't want to eat them so I need help there.

I am already working on one of the goals I set for myself - slow down. Even in the hectic tax season when I was working 7 days a week I made myself stop rushing sometimes. Especially in the morning and evening. SO WHAT if everything doesn't happen on the strike of perfect timing? I forced myself to be in the moment and stop rushing out of it. It feels good. I'm continuing to do that. As well as eating a little better, which isn't really a choice anymore because I crave healthier foods than I used to. weird. really weird.

I also really want to get back into a place where meditation is part of my daily routine.

And I have to speak to my lawyer this summer to finish up some things.

Here ends the reading of the to-do list. Aaaaahhh-aaaaaahhhhhh-meeennnnnnnn.

Ok so that was exciting wasn't it?? Thanks for reading. Sorry you can't get those 5 minutes back. I'll endeavor to be more titillating soon. :)

Thursday, March 1, 2012

When God Turns a Day Around

Today sucked. bad. big sucking. of rotten eggs. and donkey asses. and I make no apologies for the fragment sentences.
we are really busy at work, trying to figure out WTF, while mastering world domination by redheads. And man, its exhausting. Right now, paperclips are my kryptonite.

So I left the office feeling battered and beaten and defeated and pissed.
I left and went to the store, where nothing interesting happened. Then I went to get my haircut. Started to feel marginally less horrible because I looked cute. Cute is always good for karma. I had time after my haircut to pick up some prescriptions that I've been needing, and then I had to stop and get gas.

Gas. bleck. depressing. expensive. depressing. and its cold outside.
so a homeless man approaches me for change. I said I had to save some for my kid but gave him a good palm full. And a granola bar. He was very chipper and cool and said thanks! Then I said, hey I have other snacks cuz my kids always want some. Do you want some more granola bars? sure! he said. I have oranges...sure! he said. cool. I already felt 200X better just from giving this man oranges and granola bars.

Then I realized something....

Back at the beginning of the year when we did the homeless outreach which was so beautiful to give those men clothes and socks and warm hats and blankets and whatever we could find at the salvation army that day. It was a great day. My dad donated some old sweats (which are like matching and very swanky old man "sweatsuits", some socks, a hat, several tshirts and dockers. And since our homeless outreach I have tried to find a home for these clothes. They were in my house. Then my car. Then back in the house. Finally I decided that the car was more logical. I had even gone back to the place we did the homeless outreach before and found no one at that time.

so I called over my oranges and granola friend again. I asked him if he needed clothes. Yes he said, wide eyed. I explained that I'd had these clothes laying around trying to find a home for them so I must have been waiting for him. I suggested he go get his cart and go shopping in my car! we introduced ourselves. His name was Ernest. He was jazzed about the sweats...warm and adjustable. :) he took the socks with glee. and the hat. He loved my dad's very republican USA tshirts. I gave him the matching swanky sweatsuit and told him he'd be set for a date in that outfit. I asked him if he wanted the pants, or had friends who could use them and he said yes. I said OK well then, you've just relieved me of all my stock! Do you want a bottle of water too? yes. well here you go. That work for you? yes m'am it does!

So we bid each other adieu, now on a first name basis, and I got in my car. For the first time in days I felt like i was just just running jello. Its funny to me that those clothes have been just sitting there. That my day was so shitty. That he was just All funny...not in a ha ha way...but in an A-ha way.

I needed that. my soul feels fed. :)

Wednesday, February 29, 2012


So I know you will all be relieved to know I have a new car-dentity. I know you were concerned that my Honda was flitting about without knowing who it was.
Well, fret no more.

So...about 2 years ago when the separation happened, I put a decal, on my car, a hot pink heart shaped grenade. It was actually a symbol from a Green Day album, American Idiot, I think. But before I knew that, I had a dream about finding a heart shaped grenade in my bed. The dream itself was very vivid and the heart shaped grenade, now known as "the heart bomb" was heavy and cold and smoooth. I was kinda fascinated with it as a symbol. I found a heart bomb decal in hot pink and put it on my car. Around that same time, I got a keychain with the same symbol. It was metal and about 2-3" across. it wasn't smooth, but it had a great weight to it. My keychain needs no weight as its quite the mob of keys and everyone comments on how huge it is. But it just felt good in my hand and made finding my keys in my purse that much easier.

About a month ago, I looked at my keys and my heart bomb was gone. It had fallen off and the chain dangled on my keychain useless with a broken link. I was really bummed out.

But it occured to me that its probably time for me to put away the heart-bomb mascot. I don't feel nearly as explosive about love as I did then. I feel much more stable. My heart feels open, and not all wrapped up in barbed wire and full of shrapnel.

So I set upon finding a new mascot.

I have been thinking of a peacock tattoo for a long time. But the problem is that I don't know where to put a tattoo. meh.

so for what seemed like forever, I scoured the internet for a peacock decal. Believe it or not, it was not easy to find. I am the queen of finding stuff on the net! QUEEN!! so if one of you comments that you found one that's really cool at like Amazon, I'm gonna implode. :)
Anyway it took forever but I finally found one that worked for me. I really wanted one with the feathers down and kinda swoopy, but I found one with the feathers up in typical peacock fashion. Its pink. And its now on my car.

And I got a rainbow rhinesone keychain too. have to have the matching set, y'all. c'mon!!

Peacocks, in case you didn't know, carry some of the same symbolism and lore as the Phoenix. The phoenix, a mythical bird that is reborn over and over and rises from its own ashes, has always appealed to me. I am a resilient soul and have survived and reinvented a couple times so far. The phoenix is a beautiful symbol. But there is something about the peacock with its gorgeous display of color (yes I know the pretty ones are males. bite me!) and prancey look at me attitudes, coupled with the rebirth just screams ME.

I am reborn. a new woman. a new life. a new everything. I have a new outlook and a new future of my own making. and it feels beautiful and I feel like prancing! Look at my fancy reborn ass, people!! yes!!!

Ok well...something like that. *insert facial expression here*.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

National Stupid Day

Dear Shopping Cart manufacturers/Retail Loss Prevention Specialist Geniuses:

That long flag pole on the cart that is supposed to keep it from leaving the store...brilliant.
Because people totally couldn't shop lift without carts. And not having so many large carts out on the street is totally going to solve the homeless problem, the conundrum of discarded shopping carts in neighborhoods, and proba...bly even hasten world peace. Also, if it was more merchandise than I could carry myself in the store, it makes total sense for me to not be able to take the cart out to my car because I can absolutely grow extra arms as I exit the store. I also think the small cart discourages me from overspending really. awesome guys. Also, if I tip the cart into a mini-wheelie, i can still take it out the door to my car to unload the money I just spent in your store.

Also, I love the bumpy thing on the sidewalk as you exit the kids love it too. I love to hear my wine bottles clank together like that. And I totally love my eggs scrambled inside the shell. bonus!!


Dear Driver who thinks they are being courteous by allowing me to turn left across 3 lanes of traffic from the turn out:

just keep going. stop making helpful fucking hand gestures at me. Its swell that you are letting me go, and its a shame the other 2 lanes didn't follow suit because traffic should absolutely stop for me at all times frankly. Sometimes the middle lane will stop too. But invariably, the far right lane is the dickhead lane and they never stop. And I can't see around the dude who stopped in the middle lane to see when its clear for me to go through the dickhead lane. So can everyone just keep moving and get the fuck out of my way?



Tuesday, February 14, 2012

OH!! Valentine's Day...will you hold my hair???

Well as you know, this is the bestest most amazing day of the whole year. Because if you are in a relationship, there are very few significant others who do this day right. And if you aren't in a relationship well...just fuck the whole thing. Stay in bed. If you're in a new relationship...that's the best kind of fuckedupedness because the day is RIPE with disappointment just waiting to explode. so fantastic. so brilliant. a holiday named after a massacre and dedicated to expressing love. perfect really, isn't it?

someone wished me "happy infants with weapons day" this morning.

Took me a second to recognize that as a reference to cupid. Stupid Cupid. I think we are all glad its not "redheads with weapons day" but I am seriously considering trying to make that happen. Think of the flower arrangement potential. Lillies interspersed among steak knives. Roses arranged with shishkebob skewers. Or one of those minimalist an exotic orchid with a scythe...

(He's happy to see me!!)

Or like this:

But all snide-ness aside, for now...

I woke up my kids, who were sleeping at angles that could be described as anything other than parallel to me, with chocolate roses, which they then immediately both decided were for their teachers. awwwww. Then they had stuffed puppies in valentines bowls and see's candy on the table for them at breakfast. Surprise surprise, they opted for see's candy and forgot cereal even existed!!

Then Cliffy invited me to have lunch with him!! Best Valentines Day lunch ever!!

I am wearing cute shoes today and my outfit is black and blue. Oh yes, it was on purpose. :)

I'm having dinner with my girl friends tonight. Lemonade (with vodka of course), sour grapes, and haggis.

No of course I'm not serious. but its fun to type and think about haggis in general. The vodka part was probably serious. ya know. probably.

But really, even though I am a jaded bitch, today is about love. and I love love. so I will stop and take a moment today to remember what that swooshy in the clouds feeling feels like. I will love myself today. and I will love others.

"Love one another as I have loved you" (John 13:34). Jesus said this as he washed the feet of his disciples. I taught Kindergarten Sunday school once upon a time. I washed the kids feet when we learned this verse. Their little heads all exploded, as I'm sure the disciples' heads did. No one is above service to their fellow man. No one. At the end of the day, at the end of your life, at the end of everything, love is ALL that matters. do something loving today, for yourself, for your family, for a stranger.

As Buddhism teaches that there can be no peace in the world without peace in each of us individually, so is it true of love. We must love ourselves before we love anyone else. And if you can't love yourself, well, you're not really paying attention. The Creator loves you. You need more than that?

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

The Family Bond

I was going to post this on Facebook but it got a little long. The more I pondered, the more this resonated. Each time someone I love passes, I begin to feel more connected to some part of them, and consequently, myself. Its really kinda...odd and weird and spooky and awesome. Papa was an author. He died when I was 11 or 12 I think. I was not very close to him, but felt very connected to him, if that makes sense. The year he died is when I started writing poetry. Sappy stupid rhymey poetry, but ultimately writing has served me very well :)

When my Grandma Lillie died, one of the things of hers that I laid claim to was her recipes. Honestly I can't read her hand writing in most of them lol - but it was around that time that I became connected to cooking, and food, and preparing food as an act of love. Grandma made enough food for 20 people even if it was just 4 or 6. She loved having people over, as I do. She didn't care if her chairs or dishes matched (dustbowl people), she just loved feeding the people she loved. I very much relate to that. She has stayed with me in other ways that are harder to articulate. I just feel a protective thing.

Anyway, then as some of you who've read my blog for a year or more may remember, when my Uncle died, it affected me profoundly and led me to my hospice volunteering. That journey actually began with the death of a dear friend's mother.

Both of my children are very connected to my ex husband's grandparents. My daughter is named after his grandmother, and, heaven help us, has not only her name but her fire as well. My son has always had this strange connection to my ex's grandfather. He knows things about him that he wasn't old enough to understand, like his laugh. Cliff knew before we conceived his sister that he had a sister and told someone "I have a baby sister but she's too little to come out yet and she still lives in my mommy's heart". We were pregnant less than a month later with a baby girl and I swear to you, Grandpa told Cliff!!! It would be so like him to have that secret and have to share it with Cliffy of all people. Cliffy and Grandpa are both jokers, clowns, trouble makers, with a perpetual case of church giggles that they refuse to control.

Today my Grandma McClain died. She was driven here yesterday by her loving caregiver - a 4 hour drive. She was admitted, immediately recommended for hospice and passed about 24 hours after arriving here. I am utterly grateful that she passed quickly and peacefully and without pain.

I am curious what she will leave with me.

Selfishly, as she was quite beautiful and fancied herself as having 15 gentleman callers at all times, I am hoping she might assist me with my love life. :) Grandma, I don't need 15 gentleman callers, just one really awesome one.

My grandparents are all united now. <3 Wow, with Uncle Ken up there, I'm sure they are all carrying on a great deal.

We are all connected. Which is why love is so important - it comes back to you! in the form of food, or writings, or mischievous laughter, or....?

sending love to my readers and friends.


rainy days and tuesdays...

I'm in a funky mood. I have been feeling very grateful. I am grateful to be in this emotional place where I am not dependent on anyone else. SO grateful. I feel good. I feel independent. I am not worried about making anyone but myself and my kids happy. Truth is, I can't make anyone else be happy...I can add to it...but that is a lesson that was hard learned after years of marriage and other stuff.
I have been feeling very grateful for my new job. I feel like I matter. I feel like I can make a difference in her business. And these are the things that motivate me and keep me inspired.
Today its raining. And I trudged out to my car in the drizzle and threw away another broken coffee pot. What the hell are coffee pots made of? paper mache??? Do you know how I broke this one??? I was cleaning it. with a ...ya wand thing. and I am swishing it around on the inside and the plastic holds-the-sponge-on part made contact with the glass with oh so very little force...I much force can I exert at that angle???? and the pot just poof...broke. I spend $9 on the pot and maker to replace the broken pot I already had. Good thing is was only $9....only slightly more than a starbucks trip!!
ANYWAY, I threw away the stupid effing broken carafe and got in my car and my little home, my stupid little apartment, looked very cozy all lit up from the inside. I left the doors cracked. I know it will be cold when I get home but the fresh air and smell of rain is worth it.
The classed down kinkade effect of the rain and the warmth emanating from my *home* made my heart happy.
But overall...I feel funky.
Maybe its the rain. Maybe its the pending full moon. I'm going to blame the full moon because the moon is used to it and can handle it...though I suspect something else is afoot...internally that is.

The last few days I have been feeling some bitterness bubble up. About people who have completely discarded me, taken me for grated, used me, accused me, abandoned me.
PM - I know you think I'm talking about you right now and I'm not, so relieve yourself of that if you're going to continue reading this blog. Sometimes I need to to talk about stuff but I'm afraid to and I censor myself because I know you will think its about you. This one isn't. :) I have mostly made peace with you and I and all the places we have been together.

In some of my darkest times, I have had some of my best friends leave me. When my marriage was a mess, people I called sister decided they couldn't deal. When I stayed with him I lost friends. When I left him I lost friends. When I struggled tremendously and was in crazy pain the last 2 years I had friends leave me. I have been accused of taking drugs because I was crazy. No, bitch, I'm simply crazy because my fucking life fell apart and I made some shitty choices and my life continued to unravel!! OMG. Puhlease. I don't need drugs to appear unstable and unpredictable...I have LIFE for that!! This is someone who supposedly knew and understood me. Well hello?!! the people who know and love and understand me sort of have to embrace the crazy, don't they?

Real friends love you through the ugly shit. I mean, if you are standing in front of a speeding bus, they go "hey stupid!!" and hope you move. sometimes you don't. real friends do not walk away as you lie bleeding. they scrape your stupid ass up off the ground without rubbing your stupidity in your wounds like salt and they love you through it. And later, much later, they go "are you fucking stupid?! don't do that ever again!"

But no. When the bus came, some of my friends left me in the street. And I am having a hard time letting that go right now.

I am having a hard time letting go of the fact that people that I have loved, cared for, unselfishly, have not even had the courtesy of emailing me to wish me happy birthday, or merry Christmas, or just a "hey" to acknowledge that in fact I was at some point a friend. I was there for some of these individuals as they went through some tough times of their own. And I am just discarded without so much as the courtesy of a conversation.

I so badly want to name names but I am holding my

Strangely, I feel no bitterness for my ex husband now. I guess I've forgiven those wrongs. And more importantly, I am acknowledging in my heart how I have hurt him over the years. There are some situations I have made peace with. But there are a couple, or three or four, that I am still really hurt about.

And my grandmother is dying. Thought I'd throw that in for ...something. She and my mother had a challenging relationship at best. In fact that's very euphemistic. But anyway, the muddled feelings are and bitterness, relief and grief. helplessness and strength.

so I am going to blame this all on the full-ish moon.

And I shall write more when there is something more to write.

wishing you all a kinkade-esque kind of day.


Wednesday, February 1, 2012

The Scenery is a Blur

The Red Green Hurricane is in full effect y'all. I have been going 800 mph for weeks now. I'm so friggin tired. I go to bed early, I can't get up, I'm fighting off a bug, my ass is draggin.

I'm happy. But I'm busy.

And today it came to light that I am too busy to enjoy being happy.

so that's my update for today.

I am going to downshift just a smidge.

I will update with something more monumental soon.

Monday, January 16, 2012

What's love got to do with it??

Everything. Even on the days when I want to freak out because people are so stupid, I am ultimately so moved by love.

I was so inspired on the way home. I had 3 blog entries in my head. Now I'm kinda tired from herding cats (my kids) all night so let's see how we do, eh?

First, I would like to address the rapidly approaching loathsome holiday we call "Valentine's Day". If you've been reading my blog for long, you may remember last year's Valentine's Day entry titled something like "Pity Party, table for One"... yes, the love cocktail was a little bitter last year.

I was pondering this oh so stupid and ridiculous holiday today and, as I vowed to myself last year, I am going to give MYSELF a great Valentine's Day! And I want you to do the same for yourself. It has been said (to someone I know, at some point, in therapy) that what our parents fail to give us, because all parents fail somehow, even good ones, we have to learn to give ourselves. The self esteem we didn't get as babies and toddlers, we have to somehow give to ourselves. Loving yourself is a key part of evolving as a grown up. (I don't really relate to "grown ups" and so kinda dislike the term).

so this Valentine's Day I will remind myself of all the reason's I am wonderful, and of all the wonderful things I deserve in life. Not in a self entitled obnoxious kinda way...but in a all people deserve fundamental joy kinda way. And I will remind myself what I am doing with my life and why, and what I am waiting for and what I have already achieved in the 2 years since I reclaimed my own heart.

Its going to be a big, vain, nauseating love fest.

I might buy a new vibrator too.

Oh...WHAT? whatever!! don't be such a grown up.

anyway...I am inviting and encouraging all of you to try to see yourself as God sees you this coming V-day. Unless you think that God sees you as crap and you'll never be good enough. If that's the case, please see yourself as your dog sees you, which is bound to be flattering.

In addition to that, I challenge all of you to try to love someone in your life who is not very loveable. Maybe write a note of apology. Maybe just journal some positive things about the person. Maybe you don't need to tell the person that you're attempting to not view them as vile, putrid goo on that day, but you can try to feel it. Sharing it is always better but baby steps I suppose. :) Try to view that person as God views them. Yeah its a challenge because I am sure your brain would like you to think that God views them as a big pain in the ass. However, God created that person with a purpose and with love and no matter what that person says or does, God manages to love that person. That is a big thing to swallow so maybe stick with the dog thing and just try to view that person as not vile because he dumps kibble in the dish daily.

Today is the Martin Luther King Jr. holiday. My kids and I discussed this a little tonight and ate "equality pizza". In light of this paragraph above, I would like to share a quote I found by him today:
"There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this, we are less prone to hate our enemies." Martin Luther King Jr.

If you just can't bring yourself to feel nice about someone who isn't nice, then try this...take some flowers to your manicurist, your trainer, your hair dresser, your mom, your grandma, your kid's teacher, your divorce lawyer, or someone who has made your life a little better.

Or a stranger. How cool is that? Just pick a stranger in the grocery store and put a flower in their cart with a note saying "have a beautiful day". If someone did that for you, would you not just feel inspired?! Think....take flowers to the convalescent hospital, or to the parents biting their nails in the pediatric ward of the hospital (that was done for me once!), or you can opt for the simple buy the coffee for the person behind you at starbucks method, and if he's cute, include your phone number on the napkin. LOL

Put some kind of love OUT in the world this loathsome lame pink and red holiday. trust makes a huge difference in your own heart!

Eat this love cupcake now, and savor it for a few minutes because I'm about to blog some non warm fuzzy crap in a second. :)

-The Love Diva

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Another update. Man, I need better titles.

Hi friends,

Ok so here is a quick update on...various things...

'project redeem humanity' as I call it (because I was disgusted with humanity until WE came together and restored my faith and filled my heart, and my car) has 3 parts: project homeless, project mommy, and project family.
Project homeless, as previously reported, was FANTASTIC. and I have continued to collect clothes and coats which I will distribute in the next few weeks. If you have outer wear you can spare, please let me know this month. Its really cold here, but it will be shorts weather by the end of March so I have to move my arse. :) Anyway, let me know.

project mommy was a huge success and was delivered in its last phase this last weekend. The first phase was when I shipped the Christmas toys up to her in time for Xmas!! yay! It was nice to know that the kids would at least have something to open on Xmas day, and I believe their community made sure there was a bit more than that. cool!

On my way to San Jose to see fellow blogger Carol from middle-aged diva I stopped to meet my shoedazzle friend K and her sister, also K, and sister K is who we collected all the stuff for. my Honda Pilot was FULL of car seats, clothes, diapers, toys, a crib, and a trike!! I mean FULL. I'm SO glad the K sisters, their other sister O, and one of the hubby's had more than one vehicle!!! So we exchanged stuff, and took pictures of our fabulous shoedazzle shoes,

and hugged and I was on my way!! The K's were very sweet and it was so great to meet sister K, who was way pregnant with baby #6. She's adorable! She was very grateful to all of you!!

project family is still in the works. :) Stay tuned.

So now to me:

My visit with carol was awesome! I love the Bay Area!!! Northern California...they are my people!! We spend the day Saturday in San Francisco. I ate this orgasmic organic pizza

and then we visited the wharf.

It was a very warm day for SF and it was clear and gorgeous for the whole visit.

Sunday we had lunch in Capitola...and it was HOT. Yes hot, on January 1!! I got a sunburn while eating. We were sweating. It was weird. and gorgeous!!! wow. so gorgeous.

Monday I visited with some friends up there, did some shopping, piddled around, and came home. Thanks Carol, it was truly so wonderful to meet you, hang out, and relaaaaaaax. xoxo!! wow. I was so relaxed. and then...

And then Tuesday I started my new job!! But this time, ladies and gentlemen, I quit one job to start another job. Yes, a new job by CHOICE! what? yes. I know. crazy huh?

I'm a busy busy bee. (understatement) Its been a whirlwind so far, but I'm really pleased to be useful and challenged and appreciated!!

So I'm a pretty happy redhead. No whining. For now. :)

Thank you AGAIN to all of you who donated!!