Pleonastic Soliloquy

Quick update on 100 list

2009-12-17T08:10:00.000-08:00

I worked on it a bit yesterday and so far only have slightly over 40 things.

Argh! Surely I want more?! I think my dream bone is sprained. It's supposed to be fun to dream and come up with wild, fantastical ideas of things Id like to do. I feel pressure. Most of what I wrote down is easily achieved if I put my mind to it. That's good news. But where are my big far out really off the wall desires? This is scary. On the one hand I think, maybe I'm quite bring. On the other hand I think, well if this is all it takes for me to feel like I'm really living and happy, maybe it's not too far off. Hmm. Conflicted.

Back to Life, back to reality

2009-12-16T05:08:00.000-08:00

Back to the process of change...

I've made a few changes since I started writing here and they've helped me feel better. In fact, because I don't feel nearly as awful, I'm tempted to become complacent. I'm reminded of an anecdote about a hound dog laying on the porch. He looks forlorn and occasionally moans, but most of the time he just lies there looking unhappy. After a bit of investigation you realize the dog is lying on a board with a nail sticking out of it. That has to be an unpleasant sensation for the dog. But the dog moans and sort of growls when you come near it and naps n miserably day after day. Why doesn't the dog just get up a move to another part of the porch? Because he's just not THAT miserable yet.

Well the same could be true for me. Once I get a few things going that help me, I tend to get a much more lackadaisical approach to overall wellness. So I must be reminded and even prodded at times to continue to be more, to do more, to become more whole.

Happiness isn't an extra little indulgence that I have to feel guilty about gobbling up. I don't have to demurely say, "Oh none for me. I'm quite full enough," while secretly desiring the largest slice. So while I do feel better, I need to continue forward and see if I can get more joy out of my days.

Here's an interesting revelation. I tend to self sabotage. As I climbed out of my emotional abyss, I reach a plateau and assume it's the top. I rest there. Inevitably, a tragedy strikes a friend or family member, or I'm needed to re-distribute my time and energy into helping someone. This is great for me...in a way. I feel like I have more to give so I do. I enjoy giving and helping. Then I'm all burned out again and back in the pit.

So, of course, this same scenario presented itself recently. A friend is in great crisis. She did not ask for my help. I found myself over empathizing and making myself miserable over her situation. Then I focused on all the other terrible things going on in the world and decided it's not right to be happy when all this is going on. I shall postpone my health and happiness until... *breaks screeching* Until when? Life will never be all good for everyone in the world at the same time. If I continue down that path , I will never have one happy day. Truth be told, other than listening to my friend and offering up a few prayers, there wasn't much I could do to help. Her child is in a coma. She's been to a hospital a couple of hours away from my home. But being me, I begged my friend to let me do something. At one point she called with her Christmas shopping list and I was glad to spend an hour of my time running those errands for her. But I digress. During all of this, I saw a sign on the freeway that listed a missing child. I actually considered driving around in my free time looking for the vehicle that this child was supposedly in. Once again, my mind raced to its Casual Observer mode and thought "wow--you really are bored and afraid to do anything about making real, lasting changes that would help you grow. You will go to any length to distract yourself from your purpose." And so, I listened to the Casual Observer and made a note not to fall into that pattern.

So what do I want? Well my own Christmas gift is converting the guest room to a space for me. It is to be my haven. My area to work on my creative projects and to keep my papers etc. My office/hobby room. It is my secret fear that once I get that space created, that I'll sit there and wonder "now what?" I always think the creativity will elude me. It doesn't, but it's a fear buy into. I have 4 or 5 unfinished projects that I can always start with. That might stimulate my creative muscles. I always say I have so many interests I wish I could live 5 lives at once. Do you know that when presented with the notion of what would I do with them, I really didn't have enough in my immediate mind to fill up one of them?

So here's what I'm going to do:

I'm going to attempt to fill in a list of 100. 100 things I want to do before I die. It seems like a large number. I'm a little intimidated. Hopefully it will be fun to dream a bit. I've never been a goal setter...but right now I can't even know what I want unless I ask myself and look at it on paper.

amends

2009-12-08T12:11:00.000-08:00

I'm suffering from compunction. I know that most of the time online people vent. Most people take the time to write out a complaint than a compliment. (Be aware of this when reading vacation and restaurant reviews.) And because of that, the more you read stuff online, the more you tend to feel there is very little good in the world. I tend to present myself to others as Negative Nelly. It's not the sum total of my personality but it's the easiest and safest cloak for me to wear. Sometimes Nelly is funny but I'm sure it's a tiresome routine after awhile.

Honestly, I am somewhat snarky. Another truth about me is that when I feel I'm in the wrong, I own it. I have a love/hate relationship with myself because of my attitude. Being a cynical smart ass has its downside. Sometimes I feel a little over confident. I get a false sense of strength from being on guard for life's pitfalls. I think "haha Life--you didn't surprise me with your unpleasantness because I was expecting it!" Whoo freakin' hoo. Ain't that a grand way to live?! Pessimism is almost a guaranteed way to avoid being disappointed. It also helps prevent any unexpected feelings of happiness. People ask if I'm a glass half empty or half full person. I'm a "that's made of glass and it's about to get knocked over and however much is inside will spill and someone is possibly going to get cut on shards of glass" person. But that kind of person doesn't make for a catchy title... so I'll just sum that up with "Negative Nelly" for now.

Recently I was told I think too much. That's not really a news flash for me, but you get what you pay for and this comment was free. ;-) It's true. My mental auto-response is "well I'd rather be a smart ass than a dumb ass." But no matter how many ways I look at that statement, the sum is: I = Ass. Grrr. Yes, my blog which should be all about elevating our standards for discourse has been reduced to onomatopoeia.

Enough of the inner workings of Yakkity. Now I'll get to why I'm penitent. Lately I've been prattling about my loathing for the holidays. I realize that by focusing my thoughts on the negative, I'm eliminating potential joy.

I believe in supporting the true spirit and celebratory purpose behind the Thanksgiving and Christmas traditions. At Thanksgiving, (and always) it is important for us to realize and appreciate even the simple, every day pleasures that we often take for granted. I see no reason to feast necessarily. By comparison, I think the typical American caloric portion at any meal constitutes a feast in most other cultures. I wish to clarify the impression I've made that I dislike people. I like quality interactions with people. I find that parties and "special" occasions become pressurized because we all want perfection and some experience that Hallmark or Kleenex showed us in their ads. As for Christmas, I'm not the first to write or think "put the Christ back in Christmas." But today I realized the reason for the season, as Christians refer to Him, has taken a bit of a backseat to my rushing around decorating, buying gifts and trying to manage cards and outdoor lights. None of that activity is really for Jesus. It certainly can make my festivities bright and merry but all the preparation sure does create a lot of unnecessary stress and strain. I just can't believe how easily I'm sucked in by the "merriment" (read that as cultural mania) in my day to day life.

So, at this point, I'm going to exhale. I've been feeling guilty about the frenzy regarding a fabricated birthday loaded with traditions that have very little to do with the Emmanuel (God with us) we are supposedly celebrating. I see that I'd become distracted by all of the "to do" lists, social obligations and pressures. I lost sight of "the birthday boy".. or as I choose to believe from my studies, "the conception boy". (Fellow Christians let's not go into this little area too much. We can all argue the fine points all day but really, why? Can't we all just get along?! If you really need to tell me it's his birthday on 12/25, just notate the scriptural passage that supports it and I'll do my best research to see that you are correct. Frankly I'm just happy He was here and abides with me.) For those of my imaginary friends who don't know Jesus or believe in Him, that's ok. Just don't judge Jesus by the company He keeps. He's for everyone and we're all fallible, dirty little human beings who continue to do all sorts of crazy things in His name. Somehow He loves us anyway... and that's one of the many things that makes Him so much better than me.

If I have any kind of point to make it's that I'm going to re-focus myself on the important aspects of the celebration. It's going to require effort on my part. (If you know me, you know at Thanksgiving I get a bit focused on what happened to the Natives over the course of history... Another joy thief thought pattern.) I'm going to slow down and not feel like I need to buy everything Right now or I will not be ok. I'm going to relax on that greeting card list. I'm going to remind myself to be in the moment and stop getting in the way of Joy. I'm going to get a bit more Silent Night calmness and brightness in my life to help relieve some of the worldly pressure. So to all of the figments of my imagination, I wish you joy and peace. I will do my best to report some good news in the next few posts.

Negative Nelly Returns, a cornucopia of grievances

2009-12-07T10:33:00.000-08:00

True Story:

On my quest to be with the family, I popped my head into the tv room. I glance at the screen and see two large shiny robot toys moving and talking. The screen cuts to a shot of the God camera looking down on Megan Fox. Megan looks up with her failed attempt at doe-eyed innocence and says, "What am I doing here?" And I flatly say "exactly." I withdrew my head from the doorway, shut the doors and left. I would like to have those 25 seconds of my life back.

It should be noted that I have no heroes and I dislike most superhero films. I do not wish to be transformed. My review of that particular piece of cinematic work: nugatory, at best.

_________________________________

Dear well meaning dog owner,

Thanks for supporting my disdain for the teen's appeal for a bearded dragon for Christmas. Perhaps you might want to re-think your sentiment that "those stink" since your favorite furry friends do as well. It is a rare day when I can enter a home and not immediately surmise that canines dwell on the premises.

__________________________________

To my sweet vegan friends,

Animals are my friends too. But some times, when I least expect it, I do eat my friends....and they taste ambrosial.

holidaze

2009-12-01T10:21:00.001-08:00

My old, imaginary friends already know this but here it is for my newer imaginary friends: I hate holidays. It's gotten worse as I've gotten older. Perhaps my grumpy old lady routine is slightly ahead of schedule in terms of my age, but so be it.

The thing is, I really don't love parties. Occasionally I enjoy them but it's seldom. The thing about parties is, there's always a weird, awkwardness... Then a few meaningless pleasantries are exchanged. Small talk, yet another delight, is encouraged and (let's face it) required. There are introductions and the standard array of "pretending to get to know you questions." We know the questions. God help you if you find yourself asking them.... "What do you do?" Just once, for the record, I will state that what you do is not who you are. There. I'm glad to get that out of my system. I'd much prefer to kick off my shoes, sit on the floor in clothes I am comfy in, and say "So... what do you really like? Are you passionate about anything any more? How is it that you came to be here...at this moment in time?" Most would run away screaming....which would suit me fine. I guess I'm more interested in a few quality conversations than hours of surface stuff with people I'll never see again. Occasionally you might find a few people you enjoy or get involved in an activity that is pleasant, but then, it's late and it's time to leave. Why can't we skip the beginning part and just get right to the fun --if there's any to be had?! As I often say, does the fun ever start?!

Ah well... This post is about holidays. What I've learned recently is that holidays are parties where you don't invite people you like. You invite people you share DNA and/or history with. These people come with baggage. And if one of them acts like an ass, you can't throw them out of the "party" or you'll be the ass who threw Grandma out on Thanksgiving day. Imagine my joy to know that there's another special occasiona right around the corner.

Oh crap... I was supposed to throw in some random big word in my post to make it fit the blog's theme. Well, too late now. Let's just go with "anathema". It's like abomination and bane, only slightly less trite.

Why? (probably the first of many Why posts)

2009-12-01T10:19:00.000-08:00

Why is it that so many things in life that I find to be rewarding also come with a lot of responsibility? Hmmph.

word of the day: creepy

2009-11-08T08:38:00.001-08:00

That is all.

we're in new territory now

2009-11-05T06:11:00.000-08:00

It's happened. I can't tell my child's sock from my own in the laundry pile. He's not quite eight years old. Some things happen so fast...

At least, these days, he's growing in other ways besides just the sock size. This parenting thing is a continuous time warp of fast/slow. I never know how to feel or how to process it and let my emotions catch up from the whirlwind of fog that Im trapped in. Will the dust settle? Probably not.

bulimia, it's not just for breakfast any more

2009-10-23T05:33:00.000-07:00

the situation: a new development in my regularly scheduled drama. I'm not barfing but someone I live with has been.

the issues it brings up: self image, self loathing, self worth, redefining a relationship with ourselves and each other, pressures

the anger: I have a bit of this feeling. I understand how food can become about so much more than fuel for the body. I can relate to that much. I can see how young minds get things fairly twisted up. "I hurt so I will hurt myself" train of thought is mind boggling but I remember going there in my head in my early teens. I didn't carry mine out in an eating disorder. Perhaps I wasn't disciplined enough. <- That was a rough and inappropriate stab at humor. My anger comes from a good old-fashioned temper tantrum. My problematic plate was overflowing before this revelation. Go back a few posts and see when I mentioned being overwhelmed for a point of reference.... I'll wait. So I have one person in the house who was born with issues that are hardwired into his brain and chemistry. He didn't choose his troubles but he goes about life fairly cheerful and works harder than most people just to be in this world on a constant basis. Now this one---this one has added a challenge to her list of issues rather than just working on the core issue to begin with. She was provided every opportunity to deal with the core issue straight on in an open, caring environment. She chose to bury that, then act out in destructive behavior patterns as a result of buried pain and compound her problems. Her choices affect my life and all the others in my household. I didn't ask for this. Cue tantrum. This is a good case of the "But I don't WANT to deal with this"...said in the most annoying whiny voice imaginable. I, however, do not have the luxury of simply throwing up my responsibilities when the going gets tough. Oh wouldn't that seem easier? Just purge out all of the bullshit that comes my way? I already know that I can run but I cant hide from myself. I guess it's her turn to start on that lesson.

the process: Counseling, an eating plan, and re-slicing the pie chart of time and attention once again to give her more than her share and let someone else be ignored and under served in the house. Will we ever find balance? Probably not, but I'm told it doesn't last forever....

Word of the Day

2009-10-23T05:15:00.000-07:00

Believe it or not, I keep thinking about how to be more concise. I know that wouldn't keep with the theme of the blog but I'm running out of time. My verbose nature is because I type as I think. I have no time to self edit...and a lack of energy to do so as well. If I think it through, I might be a better writer but I sure as hell wouldn't be posting. I'd wait until it all made sense. I'd try to see the thought out all the way to the end and never be confident that I had my final stamp on the idea. I'm always in the process of change. My thoughts are totally subject to change with more experience and time. That's my disclaimer. I hope all of my imaginary friends saw it.

Lately I've noticed I'll have a term I over use for that day. It's like my mind has a Go To word just waiting in my mental wings and that word must be used in a sentence more than three times in a 12 hour period. Perhaps if I just wrote the word and pushed "publish" it would serve as just as good (if not better) journal of my life.

Let's give it a quick try:

Monday- Oh God I cant remember. This is why it's important to write stuff down.

Tuesday- It's a tie. I said "mad" and "Lord" a LOT.

Wednesday- "Intense"

Thursday- "Trifecta"

Friday- not sure what today's word will be. It is not a pre-planned activity.

But if we look back at the week thus far we'll see a fairly reflective pattern. There was anger and an event which made me completely block out my usual mental chaos from Monday. There was much discussion regarding intensity. And then there was trifecta. I tend to think of this term when I consider all elements of chaos coming together in a perfect storm type of scenario.

This is a good record keeping system for me. I can explain my week in a future blog. I feel massive amounts of blogging need to happen today. I've got some purging to do. So yeah, sometimes I'll explain my frequently used words and other times I can take them and finger paint with them and maybe make up imaginary scenarios. Wait.. I'm supposed to be honest here. Aren't I?! Hmm. Time to ponder that thought for awhile.

A big 4 letter word

2009-10-23T04:38:00.001-07:00

Love. I know we won't have to consult Webster's for this term. Don't you think it's tossed about WAY too easily? Ok maybe it's just me, but I do.

I always thought over-use of a term cheapened it's meaning. Epiphany: this would explain why the f bomb and many other "curse" words have little to no effect on me. They are my verbal shorthand. They do represent my lack of energy to use more descriptive vocabulary when verbalizing. I try to avoid throwing those colorful expletives out around my young son. I mean, nothing is more attractive than my potty mouth being recited through the teeth of a 7 yr old. Sometimes I even get through a whole day without muttering an obscenity. Maybe I will literally just say Obscenity from now on? Well, that's worth a try.

But I digress.

This blog was supposed to be about people who say they love (romantically) another person at the first exchange of a well....a glance I guess. I see it with the teens. There was the "ily" thing online. Wow. Almost every snotty little tweenage girl would comment the other's photo with "you are pretty. ily" Or "you look amazing. ily" Or "hot. ily"

I don't know about you, but when I was in jr. high, most girls didn't love each other. It was a blood bath or competitive snarkiness. No? Not the same for you? Ah... well.... I have issues. (Please note that most of the kids can't spell so my quotes are inaccurate in that way. My example should read as "your prety. ily")

I would expect some jr high female or even young high school girl to have a crush on a boy and say "But I looooooooooooove him." (read that in a desperate, vomit inducing whiny way) I can't count how many girls I knew that ran away in high school those first two years to be with the one they loved. *Gag* Is it hormones? Why do so many young females want to play out Romeo and Juliet? That shit did not end well, remember? These days I even hear the Over Dramatic Sap Festival spew out of the mouths of young boys. "I think I'm in love with you..." and they mean it. They think they are. It isn't even just about getting into the other person's pants--well it's not 100% the intention. (Back in my day, that would be the only reason a young dude might mutter that out loud.) It's just so odd. Is this what happens when we raise a group of guys to be in touch with their feminine sides? They turn into mushy little estrogen producing mutants? (Not to say I prefer the womanizing bastards of yesteryear.)

Occasionally I see this in adult women as well. Her: I think he's the one. Me: Oh honey, you haven't been on a date or shared a meal together. (I'll save my lengthy thoughts on the "there's only one" theory for another blog.) Her: Yes but he gives good email. Me: Well that's important but let's see how he does life in real time.

My point, if I have one, is say it when you mean it. Say it often to your children, friends, family members or whoever you actually Do love. Let the word have some dignity and meaning. It's short but what it signifies is powerful and we haven't many other words to describe what it's supposed to mean. If it's a romantic thing, then wait until you know, then say it and watch it grow. There. I got Seussical about it. You know I must be slightly more crazy today. That or I begin to rhyme when agitated. Oh God I think I just had another Epiphany about rap music. This blogging stuff is so helpful.

categorization

2009-10-11T16:02:00.001-07:00

I like to sift and sort. I like to analyze. I over-think, therefore I am.

Back in high school, I think we all put labels on ourselves in a desperate attempt to keep life (and it's characters) simplified. At that time, you were how you dressed. The music you listened to and the group of other similarly attired people you associated with, defined your status. While we neatly packaged everyone else in those labeled boxes we lamented being placed in them ourselves. How angsty and rebellious of us.....

It disrupted our world view when the boy in the "hero" costume (Thank you Disney marketing for defining heroes and villains for us all) turned out to be bad or the girl who looked the most G rated ended up being the one who was the most wild. In our young orderly brains, those exceptions to the "rules" were met with shock and surprise. Our parents, who had been the authorities on rules and morals and everything in between became fallible human beings. This discovery added to the sense of confusion and general "world crashing all around us" angst.

College was a much freer experience. No longer trapped by the labels and the clear cut sense of black and white, the world took on several shades of grey. With that revelation, the categorization became far more complicated. But the urge to categorize persisted. We grouped ourselves by age, (21 being a good line to draw), major, and personal interests.

I've come back to this draft a few times. I never have time to finish it. I've put a lot of thought into how I tend to group people. How I try to make sense of the world around me. There's been loads of analysis dedicated to the lines I draw. I've lost count of how many times I've erased those lines and started over. (mentally and literally in typing this out) Rather than continue to explain that process here, I'll let you think on your own categorization strategies in the past. See? You know what I'm talking about. You've been there and done that... or perhaps are still in the process of doing it.

At some point I gave up. I couldn't make sense of everything and everyone. It was overwhelming. (I tend to be overwhelmed a lot here, right?!) One day, as I was driving... and I'm ALWAYS driving... I had an epiphany. I was reflecting on all of the people I know and their mid life meltdowns. People can be grouped into 2 big categories after all.... There are people who have standards/principles/values that increase, or become refined, over time. They expect more out of themselves and others and cling to that criteria. And there's the converse: There are people who grow more lapse in their standards. They choose to let things slide.

How we get into either of the 2 groups--the journey that leads us there-- can be very different. Our starting points can be different... but that fork in the road that we take is a very definite turning point in the entire outcome of our lives ever after. And often it affects everyone around us as well.

Let's just go out to eat

2009-09-29T12:10:00.000-07:00

For all of my over-analyzing, there are still some things in this world I can't figure out.

I can't wrap my head around the concept of wet nurses. I have boobs and I've had a child. I couldn't even breast feed the one I had, much less other people's children. I have boobs. In fact, I have boobs that are so large they're taking over the world. Take a quick peek out your windows and doors. My boobs have been known to try and slip under the door jam. Anyway, my point is---these things must just be for show. (Though not TOO many people have seen them.... I wouldn't want you to think I'm scandalous.) When it came time for these mammary glands to function, they just weren't having it. Yes, even my boobs are lazy. So how in the world does the whole constantly flowing boob thing work? I found I had zero control over the matter. I wasn't able to make this happen. In my mind I see some wet t-shirted super hero woman saying "Boobs On" and they cooperate. I was never so relieved as the day when we returned all those pumps and gadgets. I accepted defeat and mixed the formula. And that gentle reader, is how Soy Roy was fed as a wee babe.

Why in the world am I thinking of this now? My youngest is almost 8 years old. I'm not planning to need to nurse any more babies. Well, I just got back from grocery shopping. I've started a new eating plan and it required an amazing amount of fresh food. I have visions of spending Far too much time in my kitchen. But perhaps it will be worth it. Maybe I will grow to love preparing every consumable bite. (hear the doubts?) I have the 8 yr old, a 15 yr old and a 38 yr old. pack of locusts. You heard me. I do not have family. I have locusts. They will terrorize my kitchen and undo all of my efforts at meal planning, having the proper ingredients, and sticking to my new plan. They will manage to destroy my system and my resolve in seconds flat. There must be some sort of solution to this unending frustration. So who wants to be the wet nurse?

musical bullseye

2009-09-29T07:45:00.001-07:00

I heard this one and it reminded me of Chris Martin (Coldplay). I YouTubed it and the video was appropriate for me in this season of my life. PS "Google" has made it into the dictionary as a verb. (The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition Copyright © 2009 by Houghton Mifflin Company.) I predict "YouTubed" will as well.

Unfortunately I can't embed it here... so I shall simply paste the link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YbdxzSHn-QM

Music or Soundtracking the Madness, whichever you prefer

2009-09-28T08:43:00.001-07:00

This is an unrefined thought. All rough around the edges. At some point, I might actually attempt to write well. But no, dear friends (imaginary and otherwise) that day is not today. I continue to blather on with zero editing. Let's just continue to dump my thoughts out here and fingerpaint with them. It gets messy in this mind o' mine.

So as some of you know, I'm trying to deal with this emotional mess that I live in on a daily basis. As part of that I'm trying to change my mental diet. That means I can't stew in my favorite angsty music. Well I can, but I'm sure not going to feel any better for having done so. I've marinated in this depressive state for long enough. I guess I'm hopping on the garbage in, garbage out bandwagon. You know you're far too negative when your voice cracks at the first positive sentiment verbally expressed. It's gotten to the point where I'm almost allergic to positivity?! Yowsa.

I drive a lot. (Such is the custom/lifestyle where I live. ) In an attempt to improve the emotional context of the soundtrack to my drive, I've tried a few different approaches. I shun most of my old Cds because most of them are sad/angry or just remind me of other sad/angry times. Desperate to feel something else, I've gone into the store and just randomly purchased music to bring a different vibe to my daily experience. This has been good but it's a total gamble. Sometimes, it turns out the artists on my mystery purchase are also angry and sad.

Why not just listen to the radio, you are asking yourselves?! Oh gentle reader, have you not noticed most of this music just sucks?! It is either a) angry and sad b) insipid c) all hype with no substance and/or d) all of the above. Upon some critical analysis, (seriously would you expect me to do anything less... it's unavoidable in this tangled up noodle brain of mine), I've determined there to be about 6 lyrical themes or fewer to most popular music. 1) I'm in love

2) I want to get laid 3)We had great sex 4)I'm alone and sad. When I will get laid/have great sex again? 5) I want to rock... and rock is always substituted for the radio edit approved version of the f word. Think about it. Rock me... rock me...rock me through the night. Yeah they're not talking about musical notes and arrangements here. 6) If I have that cash/car/bling/get someone drunk/high, then we can get laid. Or if it's a female singer, it's hahaha they all want me in the sack now; I'm really somebody! Whoot. You go girl. Set us all back a few more hundred years in terms of the intrinsic value of human beings that happen to be female.

So back to my strategies. The random purchasing was not working out too well. I decided to save money. I switched to classical music. That's gone fairly well. Occasionally even some of those songs sound stressful. There's no words but you can hear the instruments prattling on about how the jeans don't fit and they're ugly and there's no time to enjoy yourself because your world is chaos and loaded with responsibility. Yes. The instruments say that. Haven't you been listening?! (<- projecting much? why yes I am thanks!)

I got a little tired of no lyrical input. It's a tricky balance. Left to my own thoughts, I may be able to turn any soundtrack into an anthem of woe. (perhaps I just found my talent) Normally I shun all popular lines of thought. I'm a contrarian by nature. The herd mentally is usually a large source of disgust for me. This tends to apply to every aspect of life. As such, and to get back on the track of music, I have avoided Christian radio as much as I have avoided church. (maybe my God thoughts will make another blog) One of my Major issues with contemporary Christian recording artists is that the men all sound neutered. It's true. It's as though, to be "accepted" by that genre of the music industry you must detach your balls. I'm not saying I want someone to do some pelvic thrusts and sing about the Lord. But why is it that so many youth ministers or preachers or musicians present themselves as these very soft hearted (tender even) Ken dolls? They're not quite women but they sure aren't men either. It's disturbing. Or in the case of preachers, they go the other direction in excess screaming at people like drill sergeants. (This line of thought will soon be in a blog about masculinity)

Despite my initial resistance, I tuned to the Christian station. Wow--what an eclectic mix of sounds show up on this station: (C)Rap, Country CrossOver, Trying too Hard to Sound exactly like what Teens like and throw a few "God(s)" into the lyrics, and all the stuff you typically think of when you hear about music about God (soft sensitive voices). It makes for an interesting source of samples to analyze. I tend to turn it down, then back up and down. My volume controls are getting quite the workout. But I'm finding the occasional tune that does not offend my ears and actually helps me feel a little less awful. So there's something. Yep. I've not quite gotten to where I can shout that "I'm happy so very, very happy" yet... but this is a little bit of a twisted improvement.

lazy Saturday discovery

2009-09-26T15:43:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to paint my nails. Emphasis on the word trying. I thought about how the lady at the salon told me OPI brand was the best nail polish. So I'm slathering it on and realizing that I don't like it. I prefer the stuff that dries in 60 seconds. I'm going to wipe it all off in a minute. I just want to get my keyboard good and covered in the OPI first while I type this out.

I think I like my nail polish like I like my men: slightly old, thick and slow to run. And fast drying. Ok no. I take it back. That's just creepy.

Who's up for mani pedis on Monday?

2fer

2009-09-26T09:33:00.001-07:00

I just had a quality conversation with my teenage step daughter. I love when we talk. She has similar mother issues that I had growing up. Sometimes when I tell her what's working for her and what's working against her happiness in how she is "managing" her relationship with her mom, I hear my own advice. It''s like a 2 for 1 counseling session. I'm really proud of how much she has grown up and matured these past 2 years. I think she has every chance not to make all the exact same mistakes I've made. And, not to be all Martha Stewart, but that's a good thing.

PS I think I've determined my font personality.... I'm Arial Small.

Hindsight is 20 20

2009-09-25T20:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday one of my friends wrote of her feelings of abandonment regarding her father figure. I began replying to her blog and realized I was essentially writing a blog of my own in her comment section. Rather than make her site all about me, I cut and paste it into a text document. I let my thoughts simmer for several hours.

Here's what I started writing:

My dad stayed in my life. I'm not close to either of my parents. My dad had surgery yesterday and I called his cell phone to get a status update. Someone else answered, didn't know me, said I had the wrong number and hung up. I was stunned. In the moment it hit me: one day there will be no parent to call. No pressure to do the obligatory call every 2 wks or so (yeah! check that off my To Do list) But no parent to call at ever? Sometimes those are the only people who make themselves available to me at a moment's notice. They're my favorite people to kick around and they're always willing to come back to take more. Oh My God.

Yes I stopped at the realization. What I instantly saw was that some of the very things I just wrote about parenthood are true of my parents. We may not get along very well. I'm sure I drive them crazy also... But the very idea that they continue to welcome me no matter how awful I treat them at times, proves that they do love me in some of the same ways I love my child. It's entirely twisted. They've done things to me I don't think I'd ever do to my child. But let's face it---no friend or lover is going to take my snotty little attitude or allow me to try and blame them for all of my own shortcomings. I complain about them, manipulate and use them when I'm out of options and yet they continue to want to be around me. Whether I want to admit this or not- the hard truth is, sometimes they are just the only ones left to take my call. They may be last on my list but they always pick up the phone and seem genuinely happy to hear my voice.

Man that's a bittersweet pill to swallow. I'm a fiercely independent person. I don't ask for much. It isn't often that I allow them to take care of me in any way. In fact, I pretty much expect them to fail at it. (What can I say?! It's a complicated relationship.) Something I need to own is that damned old saying "I have not because I ask not." I don't have that soft place to land when I'm falling because I don't ask for help. I'm too proud or afraid and I have little confidence in others. Somehow that all comes down to trust. Well, let's just add that to my massive list of issues.

The point is, in a moment I realized how very immature I still am when it comes to my parents. Perhaps no matter how old, or enlightened I'd like to think I'm becoming, that adult/child paradigm is always present. Perhaps that is the gift we all pass to our kids (well those of us who stay and are available to our children) the gift of being there whenever, however possible. It's that blank check that says I'm giving my life to you for you forever and you will never realize it or even care until well after I'm gone. If that's the case, I suppose it's time to start being appreciative of the things my folks did well and less resentful of my own gift to my kids. After all, what good is a gift if it's not given freely?

The Secret Life of Parents

2009-09-24T12:21:00.000-07:00

Also known as "What they don't tell you about having kids" as per mentioned in a list of possible topics.

(As if I ever had joie de vivre, I seem to have a bit less mojo today. Perhaps I'm spent from yesterday's blogathon. Perhaps I'm recoiling from the task because I fear nothing I say is of value. Well hell, why fear dear? Value Shmalue. Today's post is half off. There. Everyone should be satisfied now.)

I know many would have you believe that as a woman, you have not achieved your purpose on the planet until you spawn additional people. For men, I suppose you're not Fully a man either unless your microscopic insect thingys can swim and hit the mark. Note gentle reader(s), these are not my sentiments but the pressure placed upon you by society. To have a wiggly little person with large eyes and incontinence is supposed to add meaning to your life and you are supposed to be a wellspring of effervescent joy radiating happiness and peace for all the world to see.

Here's what most people don't consider when they opt in for this adventure:

#1 If we are to continue to operate under the delusion that your job as a parent lasts for approximately 18 yrs, try to think of one single thing you've done consistently well (other than breathe) for 18 solid years. Nod your head. It's true. The bubble is bursting but it's ok.... You will not be Awesome Mom/Dad, Perfect Parent or even Master of Mediocrity 365 days x 18. In fact, sometimes (note I didn't even say some days) you will more likely be Functioning Fool, barely Operational Overseer, and even Lousy Life Manager. Whee! So if you like the sense of failure compounded by copious, you're in the right spot!

#2 Hormones. WhoreMoans. Chemistry. This is what gets you into this situation. This is the Duracell of the Biological Clock. These little chemicals are what make you see the diaper ads and weep. (I gotta say the little sound of some kid pitter pattering on the floor barefoot wearing only a Clean diaper is a great sound...But then they cry and the spell is broken.) These chemicals are also why the tiny Gap clothes call out to you--that or shopping addiction depending on the moment. There comes a time when your body is basically on drugs and all you think about (ladies) is breeding. I know. It happened to me. There should be an Anonymous meeting for it. Thankfully, it is the same chemicals that make us fall in love with the squirmy, drooling mini Martians and keep us helplessly and rather hopelessly connected for the rest of our lives. A note--sometimes there's something that goes haywire and women don't get the in love chemical after having their bundle. I don't know what to say. It worked out that I was lucky and the Force was with me on that one.... But chemistry is a fickle friend. Just like New Love in a romantic relationship, after a while, the Cute One starts to develop some quirks that just annoy you and you begin having Commitment Remorse. (perhaps this is turning into a commitment post....no I can steer it back to my point)

#3 You've done the deed. The baby is here. Surprise--your heart hurts. Oh yes. Physical pain that you smile through because it aches a bit AND you're riding high on the hormones. Your heart just grew larger. I liken it to finding out there's a secret door in your home and you just found it. There's an extra 1000 sq ft in there! Who knew?! You now have the capacity to love in a whole new way you've never been acquainted with before. It's wonderful! It's the best thing ever! You want to tell the world all about it! It's terrifying. Ok look for all you emotionally healthy and well-adjusted types, just quit reading. You're in the wrong spot. But for the rest of you--listen... You now have a piece of your heart walking around outside of your body. This is Your HEART I'm talking about.... Peel off the armour and candy coated shell and see if you can find it again. You've probably spent years becoming quite jaded to protect it in this emotional minefield known as Life. Now a hunk of it is out there for the world to see, use and abuse... and occasionally it turns on you and stabs you in the face as well. Oh yes. Good times indeed. And because you can't help yourself, you hand it the knife and say "that's ok dear, perhaps you'd like to take another try.... See if you can aim a little lower this time.... Here let me help you. Oh sweet angel, just keep practicing--you'll learn how to devastate people just like the rest of them with a bit more practice." What I'm saying in an admittedly cryptic way is, for the first time (most likely) ever, you now have this sense of throwing yourself to the proverbial wolves/leaping through fire/jumping off mountains/whatever for someone Besides yourself. And the real ass kicker: they probably will never appreciate it nor acknowledge it or even fathom it---until maybe when they become parents. (I *still* don't think my parents had/have the kind of love for me that I do for my child...so no guarantees on the kid seeing this even after becoming a parent.)

#4 The heart break has just begun. Your chemicals make you feel just as needy for this being that needs you. You become exhausted and want a break but feel guilty for taking one. You can't be in two places at once. There are no stunt doubles. (Believe me I've been accepting applications for years and there's a significant lack of resumes on my desk) You are needed...maybe not always wanted but most certainly Needed. You have a new purpose. Ready for the bittersweet part? Your entire job is to train that person to do without you. Yep. To be a healthy functioning adult alien (hahaha ok maybe a couple of you are human) with decent self esteem and coping skills means you have to train them to need you a little bit less each year. (Sometimes this is a relief. Sometimes, when it becomes super obvious, they don't need/want you- it stings) But that is not all. Oh no, that is not all. You need to do it All while trying to maintain a personality, a sense of self that is not All about the Kids to demonstrate what a healthy adult looks like. You know one with friends, a good romantic relationship, hobbies, good self esteem etc., so they can see a Model of what they'd like to become and use it as a visual roadmap for future reference. Oops! This is where I and a few other women tend to drop the ball. Who has time to be a woman And a mom? No really. Romance? And barf on aisle 3? *Kiss kiss* and a screaming baby in the background: talk about mood killer. As an aside, I don't have this visual roadmap from my mom. All I knew as a kid was that I didn't want to be like her... I wonder if history will repeat itself?!

#5 (and I'll stop here because it's getting WAY too long) As your child grows up, you "get" to re-explore all those old childhood/teen issues you buried long ago and promised yourself was all behind you. Ready to tap back into all those "new school" fears? How about playground bullying? Ready to take a whole other crack at adolescent insecurity and teen angst? You will! The trick is not to project your own baggage onto your kid. Sometimes they go through it the exact same way you did (and won't listen to your warnings because they simply must learn the hard way) and sometimes they won't. While I'm rambling on about projecting, it's also quite tricky not to attempt to Design your kid. This is way more than genetic sci fi crap they speak about now with test tubes and DNA and such. I mean, allowing your child to have their Own personality while behaving appropriately within the parameters you set up. If you like control, you may want to re-think parenthood. Remember the grab bad thing at church carnivals (etc)? You never knew what you were going to get. I sort of liked the surprise element there. The worst that would happen is you'd get a cheap thing that you could discard. Not so with kids... at least legally. You don't know what you're going to get... You could be quiet, contemplative, and artistic and spawn someone completely the opposite. Guess what? Gotta love 'em. hahahaha Well you would (obviously) but you know what I mean. I have found, often, that if you have a family member from your childhood that you have/had issues with, God has this funny way of giving you a kid with a lot of the same personality quirks. It's as if He says "Do over. Try again. See if you can get along this time."

Ok before I make it completely unappealing and sterilize you for life, The good things you've heard are true. I get a contact happy when my child is happy. His genuine laugh is the best sound on the planet. I don't always hang on his every word any more-- that's the lack of New Love chemical mixed with my depression and bitterness du jour robbing me of that..... But when I see him learn something new and he's proud of himself and he shares it with me, well, that is better than any vacation, drink, meal or bank balance I can imagine.

Britney Spears

2009-09-23T08:36:00.000-07:00

Remember a few pre-head shaving years ago, when Britney claimed she was working on something that was like a doctorate degree (<-her description) that she called My Truth? This was back before the pink wig, before the faux British accent and before her daddy took the reigns of her life. I remember reading through that and (of course) mocking it. I remember thinking, she built us all up --she brought the hype and didn't deliver. This? This is all she's got?!

I wish I could Google it and re-read it now. What if I was wrong? What if there was some kind of code in Her Truth (probably not DaVinci style) that could have explained that shaving one's head was the answer. What if she was right?! Ok.... that is me being facetious.

But on a slightly related note, I am considering a different hairstyle and an unnatural hair color. This could be the beginning of my decent into faux British accent land.

PS I know I have a font size/style identity problem. Add it to the list of issues.

Checkpoint: Day 1

2009-09-23T07:42:00.000-07:00

Main Entry:	overwhelm
Part of Speech:	verb
Definition:	flood, beat physically
Synonyms:	bury, conquer, crush, defeat, deluge, destroy,drown, drub, engulf, inundate, massacre,overcome, overflow, overpower, overrun,overthrow, rout, smother, submerge, swamp,thrash, total, whip, win*
Antonyms:	underwhelm

* = informal/non-formal usage

Main Entry:	overwhelm
Part of Speech:	verb
Definition:	astonish, devastate
Synonyms:	bewilder, blow out of the water, bowl over,confound, confuse, demoralize, destroy,disturb, do in, downgrade, drown, dumbfound,floor, kill, overcome, overpower, prostrate,puzzle, render speechless, run circles around,shatter, shock, stagger, steamroller, stun,subordinate, surprise, swamp, upset, wreck

Morning mission completed! Not one curse word on the drive. Of course it helped that God Photoshopped out a third of the commuters on my route this a.m.

I don't plan to blog like a crazed lunatic all day. But in my mind, I'm constantly blogging or flogging myself, whichever fits the moment. So on the commute I had many thoughts that could constitute several blogs. This is my list for future reference. Or perhaps I'll go on a wild typing spree and address these topics in the not so distant future. (<- read that as tonight when I can't sleep) Religion, Church & the music / What they don't tell you about having kids / Autism / Marriage and how I'm not fit to give advice on it/ the list of very odd things that make me Me/ Why I hate phones/ Odd Things about the Southwest/ Masculinity, an Identity Crisis/ What My Biggest Problem Is (yes I've identified it and am looking for ways to deal/cope)

I don't think I can write on these topics presently. I'm at Glorified Coffee Chain, being a contrarian and drinking warm spiced cider, and there's a few groups of women who are starting their Mahjong club hen party. I can barely focus.

So I should carry on with the wave of Whelm and how I just might eek out an existence today without it taking me over. Oops-failure #1: I'm trying to Live rather than simply exist. Perhaps, at some point, when I feel extra mojo I'll shift from the lofty goal of Living to Thriving but let's not get ahead of ourselves. Ok perhaps this all sounds quite dramatic. I mean defense against becoming overwhelmed? Is this what is has come to? Well, in a word, yes. See the top of this post for the terms associated with "overwhelm". So there you have it. I would say that at some point or another in the last several years, I've become intimately familiar with the emotions most of those words carry.

But onward we go. Adding to the List to keep things going today.... After this time at Coffee Shop inside the Book Chain, I am meeting a friend for lunch. Tough life I'm leading huh?! (<- sarcasm) (By the way I'm used to pointing these things out because I correspond with many adults with autism online and they appreciate the Reader's Notes) So at lunch, I will be met with warmth. There will be the usual obsessing over our kids with special needs and whether or not they are getting all they should be from the school situation. We will discuss what we've been up to since our last chat. I've got a trip and a wedding to report on. I've also got a few secrets which I will need to choose carefully whether or not to tell. See how I didn't tell you either? (<- trust issues) Ok not that I don't trust some of you---just maybe not all of you imaginary friends. (<- dissociative identity disorder in the making...you saw it here first) I must also carefully guard this tongue of mine. It is most irresponsible spewing it's filth and negativity all over the place. I must remember not to feel my friend's feelings...for I have more than enough of my own. (clearly) These are the finer points to leaving a social moment feeling energized rather than drained. After lunch, I will scoot down to my gym and do a little walking/cardio while reading a book. Which book do I choose? The Other Queen (I started it on the plane Monday) or the one I just bought Craig Ferguson's American On Purpose (which I've been waiting for 3 months to read)? Ah decisions decisions...

Then it will time to pick up The Boy. Try to repeat the a.m. steps. Yesterday's post school trip to the grocery store was a bit of a disaster. Note to self: Avoid post school errands at all costs.

Then I must ponder the dinner selection for the Family. Get the Boy's 30 seconds of homework out of the way. WAit--reserve 5 minutes for the possible whining that takes place to the 30 seconds of the actual task. And maybe I'll watch House on the DVR so I'm caught up on the tv.

It doesn't sound too bad today. In fact, maybe it won't be so bad ever again...since I'm approaching it with such determination.

Good morning imaginary friends

2009-09-23T05:24:00.000-07:00

Well hello vast abyss of the Internet. I've got my bowl of Cascadian Farms cereal (product placement without a hyperlink is so short-sighted, don't you think?!). I would say I'm drinking coffee, but that would be a lie. I recently cut back my consumption because life makes me nervous enough lately. So as I chew my minimally sweetened cubes of hay and trigs, (I can feel the fiber working 30 secs from the time I sit down..hows that for TMI?) I think about what I'd rather have on my menu today. Today I'd like some long and abiding sense of peace sprinkled with a dash of occasional giddiness. I wonder if "they" have that?!

Who are They? The waitstaff at the emotional restaurant of the cosmos? Probably not. The ugly truth: the best way to get what I want is to constantly consider how I'm choosing to respond to the events of the day as it unfolds. <- That sounds like a challenge and a lot of work. Maybe it comes easily for some people, but change is hard for me. I'm melancholy by nature, cynical by design and topped off with a heaping helping of surliness for good measure. But I'm ready to feel differently. Hell, I'm ready to Feel. (Serial killers, calm down. This is not an invitation.)

When faced with a difficult task, it often helps me to break it down into smaller components. I have to trick myself so as to not be overwhelmed. So first, I must get through the a.m. frustrations with carefully measured positivity and goodwill toward mankind. This will prove difficult during those last minute routines that I have to verbalize to my child repeatedly even though we've been at this for 7 years and of course, worse than that, morning traffic. It was an hour drive to school yesterday. Let's hope the people of this city are a little more cooperative today. I shall refrain from the hundreds of profanities I will want to mutter on the morning commute. I shall not dwell on my personal shortcomings and failures as I make that drive. I will specifically not choose to listen to my favorite forlorn music. Of course, that won't be enough. I'll also have to avoid all music with lyrics as I find them to be increasingly depressing either in their tone or due to their insipid nature. Either way, they are off the list of options.

After writing that, I feel like that's a full day's worth of effort right there and I've only made it through getting my kid to school. Wow. Let the tidal wave of "Whelm" take me over now. Ok as is also typical of me, I shall amend the day's goals to the morning's goals and call it good. Don't judge. We all have to start somewhere.

P.S. For those of you who "know" me, I'm still trying to determine the purpose of dribbling it all out here. I have decided I would not like to use my name or those of family members and friends in my writing. Once again, serial killers, I'm trying to avoid getting in touch with You. You can go ahead and click that area at the top that says "next blog" now.

Tabula Rasa

2009-09-22T21:18:00.000-07:00

Well thanks to the power of email account sloppiness (I have over 4000 unread messages in one old inbox alone) and search boxes that sift through the mire, I was able to find this old blog. By old, I mean circa 2005. I read through it and archived it for posterity, then deleted the entries to begin anew. My intent is to Resurrect it.

So much to say and yet so little sleep. I'm trying to be more mindful of all of my choices: food, attitude, words uttered and take ownership of the consequences and rewards that result. In that spirit, I choose sleep for tonight. Verbose ramblings may resume tomorrow.