In my latest blog post I mentioned it was my last one. My attempt to return to 1996... the tangiblity of pen and paper to the intangibility of cyberspace. I get on tangents like these sometimes... and then I eventually, sometimes swiftly, fall back in step with my everyday patterns. And so it has happened...
Christian Bale as Batman fights crime on the small screen as I spend the last hour I intended to use getting a head start on sleep instead thinking about how I process information. Slowly. In segments. Similiar to how my boyfriend's laptop lags to open a Web page or file...grinding and grinding in its search until it eventually fulfills your request. I am not a "slow" person, I am thoughtful. Introspective. Especially when it's about something that really matters. Something I don't want to lose. I try to be patient - to allow myself to think... I get lost in my thoughts so much that I sometimes miss moments to reply or respond the way I should, in the way the moment calls for. That makes me feel stupid. But I am lost in my thoughts and so I review conversations in my mind and have to go back and ask questions or make points after the fact. Im sure it can be percieved as if I've been obsessing about that one particular point for days, when really it just needed time to cycle around to the front of my mind again, its turn in my tumultuous parade of thoughts...
I ask myself a lot of questions. I try to get to the core of what is in my heart, my gut... And why... Why am I feeling the way I do? I have learned that when you are quick to speak and swift to make judgements, you are often swift to fuck up your life. (And I make more than my share of reactionary comments too, to be certain). But I realize that it's much better to keep your mouth shut and your eyes open and feel things out and see where life takes you... And even if you feel stupid by having to go back and clarify things the next day, or a few days later, it's OK... I tell myself.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Goodbye
This is my last blog post....
I have found an internal time machine and am going back to 1996. I had just started using email then, reluctantly. I did not have a cell phone. I used a land line and somehow managed to live my life not being able to call someone when out and about. I did not text my conversations. I did not have a blog. I wrote in notebooks. I wrote actual letters. Pen to paper and stamp to envelope. I sent emails when required. I did not have MySpace or Facebook.
In this era, our time is most spent in front of a computer instead of faces. Our lives are now filled with "friends" we hardly know, or some we apparently do not know at all. Or those no longer in our lives we wish to peek in on from time to time (completely irksome). We are voyeurs in each others' worlds, these cyber-scrapbooks and online shrines we build to ourselves. We have such a weak sense of identity in this life - this 2008 - that we define ourselves by profiles and interests and surveys. We have no idea who we are anymore...Someone else sparked this thought in me, and I have continued it...
I had a life before all of this. I will have one after it is all gone. If I lose connection when I lose this, it was never real in the first place. This may very well be true.
I am going back to 1996. Join me if you care to.
I have found an internal time machine and am going back to 1996. I had just started using email then, reluctantly. I did not have a cell phone. I used a land line and somehow managed to live my life not being able to call someone when out and about. I did not text my conversations. I did not have a blog. I wrote in notebooks. I wrote actual letters. Pen to paper and stamp to envelope. I sent emails when required. I did not have MySpace or Facebook.
In this era, our time is most spent in front of a computer instead of faces. Our lives are now filled with "friends" we hardly know, or some we apparently do not know at all. Or those no longer in our lives we wish to peek in on from time to time (completely irksome). We are voyeurs in each others' worlds, these cyber-scrapbooks and online shrines we build to ourselves. We have such a weak sense of identity in this life - this 2008 - that we define ourselves by profiles and interests and surveys. We have no idea who we are anymore...Someone else sparked this thought in me, and I have continued it...
I had a life before all of this. I will have one after it is all gone. If I lose connection when I lose this, it was never real in the first place. This may very well be true.
I am going back to 1996. Join me if you care to.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
A new blog i like
this lovely blog features photography that moves my heart...
i want to take photos like this and put them in small frames all over my house...
i want to learn... i dont have a camera... i will look on ebay for one.
i want to take photos like this and put them in small frames all over my house...
i want to learn... i dont have a camera... i will look on ebay for one.
Poetry
I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there ’s a pair of us—don’t tell!
They ’d banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
-Emily Dickinson
if i love You
(thickness means
worlds inhabited by roamingly
stern bright faeries
if you love
me) distance is mind carefully
luminous with innumerable gnomes
Of complete dream
if we love each (shyly)
other, what clouds do or Silently
Flowers resembles beauty
less than our breathing
-ee cummings
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
-Robert Frost
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. - Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
-William Wordsworth
Are you nobody, too?
Then there ’s a pair of us—don’t tell!
They ’d banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
-Emily Dickinson
if i love You
(thickness means
worlds inhabited by roamingly
stern bright faeries
if you love
me) distance is mind carefully
luminous with innumerable gnomes
Of complete dream
if we love each (shyly)
other, what clouds do or Silently
Flowers resembles beauty
less than our breathing
-ee cummings
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
-Robert Frost
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. - Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
-William Wordsworth
Friday, October 31, 2008
untitled...
I just wrote a post and deleted it. It wasn't because I didn't want you, dear reader, to read what I had to say. But I felt it was truer to myself to commit those thoughts and feelings to my heart.. to take them inside where they can solidify...instead of committing them to paper (or whatever you call this) to be injested visually by others...
Im not a professional writer anymore... or much, these days. I have been pondering tonight what it was that made me so happy about writing for the OC Register. Outside of the challenge to come up with a catchy, well-written lead, I know what fueled me... I helped people. I was able to wield my pen to inform, to inspire, but also to support... and that's what I loved the most. I loved writing about companies (especially female-owned) who offered lovely goods or services and using my power of the press to support their endeavours. Of course their story alone had merit, but it was my way of helping people who had a dream get their chance in the spotlight. Even if it was one small story in the paper for a single day, recycled the next. It truly was my spark.
When my focus had to turn to helping myself more, I lost my spark. When creativity was churned out for dollars more than satisfaction, I lost my spark. I know that's the way of the real world, but it extinguished something inside of me...
Now Im happy to just work for money because I still find a level of satisfaction in simply doing a good job and making a wage that supports me and my boys. Nothing to be ashamed of in that. I will find my spark again one day. I will care about helping people through my words again one day. To inspire. To encourage. To support.
One day. Again.
Im not a professional writer anymore... or much, these days. I have been pondering tonight what it was that made me so happy about writing for the OC Register. Outside of the challenge to come up with a catchy, well-written lead, I know what fueled me... I helped people. I was able to wield my pen to inform, to inspire, but also to support... and that's what I loved the most. I loved writing about companies (especially female-owned) who offered lovely goods or services and using my power of the press to support their endeavours. Of course their story alone had merit, but it was my way of helping people who had a dream get their chance in the spotlight. Even if it was one small story in the paper for a single day, recycled the next. It truly was my spark.
When my focus had to turn to helping myself more, I lost my spark. When creativity was churned out for dollars more than satisfaction, I lost my spark. I know that's the way of the real world, but it extinguished something inside of me...
Now Im happy to just work for money because I still find a level of satisfaction in simply doing a good job and making a wage that supports me and my boys. Nothing to be ashamed of in that. I will find my spark again one day. I will care about helping people through my words again one day. To inspire. To encourage. To support.
One day. Again.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
A "writer" on writing...
I'm pondering if there comes a point in your life where you hit a crossroads and realize that it's simply time for a change... I am perhaps there.
I'm not sure if it's the result of my bouts of emotional and physical exhaustion over a span of months, or perhaps it's the milky froth of reality that settles on top after a stirring...
So much of my identity is wrapped in the fact that I'm a writer. To not do this becomes a question for me not of monetary value, but of my value as a person. It is, after all, what I had wanted to be since I was a child. [That, and an actress. An English teacher. A singer, like Amy Grant. And a mom.]
I have lost my spark. I'm not sure how to regain it. The effort required is simply nowhere to be found in this body, or in this heart. Not anymore. I'm tired.
Far gone are the days of SqueezeOC, where although I had my share of setbacks and weaknesses, I produced well-written, creative stories and brought some good ideas to the table. Despite my lack of "face time" and limited capacities being the Mom on staff who did that full-time job with little to no child care support.
Walked away from my fashion writing gig. Not so great at fiction writing; proven that. Wrapping up and then ceasing to take on anymore freelance writing clients. Fate at the Register is pending.
I know that, ultimately, my identity is not in what I do, but who I am...
So here's to embracing that...
I'm not sure if it's the result of my bouts of emotional and physical exhaustion over a span of months, or perhaps it's the milky froth of reality that settles on top after a stirring...
So much of my identity is wrapped in the fact that I'm a writer. To not do this becomes a question for me not of monetary value, but of my value as a person. It is, after all, what I had wanted to be since I was a child. [That, and an actress. An English teacher. A singer, like Amy Grant. And a mom.]
I have lost my spark. I'm not sure how to regain it. The effort required is simply nowhere to be found in this body, or in this heart. Not anymore. I'm tired.
Far gone are the days of SqueezeOC, where although I had my share of setbacks and weaknesses, I produced well-written, creative stories and brought some good ideas to the table. Despite my lack of "face time" and limited capacities being the Mom on staff who did that full-time job with little to no child care support.
Walked away from my fashion writing gig. Not so great at fiction writing; proven that. Wrapping up and then ceasing to take on anymore freelance writing clients. Fate at the Register is pending.
I know that, ultimately, my identity is not in what I do, but who I am...
So here's to embracing that...
Patience
I have waited a long time for deep, heartfelt desires to come to me. Put the hope out into the universe through heart and mind and whispered prayers for years, many years... to now finally have these hopes, real and true, in my life. They have finally come, filling the spaces in my heart to overflowing. So thankful....beyond words...
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Hope
"Hope" is the thing with feathers
-Emily Dickinson
"Hope" is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—
And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—
I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.
-Emily Dickinson
"Hope" is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—
And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—
I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Grace
In the past, it seems that whenever I made a mistake I often had to pay through loss...requiring me to let go, grieve, gird up, move on. A severance.
It's nice to realize that life is not always going to be this way... that we have room to not have it all together sometimes, and simply be human, but we don't have to pay through losing what matters to us... we get to keep, because we are meant to have. This is Grace.
It's nice to realize that life is not always going to be this way... that we have room to not have it all together sometimes, and simply be human, but we don't have to pay through losing what matters to us... we get to keep, because we are meant to have. This is Grace.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Life, etc.
If I had a gigantic metaphysical eraser and could go back and delete some of the decisions I have made over the past few months, I would. But we live this life moment by moment, and sometimes it's like traveling in a heavy mist where we can only see a few feet in front of our faces... so we use wisdom and go slow. I sped through the fog and managed to come out with only a few dings and bruises, so I should be thankful.
I have realized a lot about myself tonight. When you take yourself out of your environment and into a, well, better environment, it's easy to reflect on what you are missing.
Space, for one. The simplest terms. Humans need their space. And my living situation is tolerable, but far from ideal. I'm working to remedy that and provide more for us.....
I know I can be edgy, and it's because, while I know that I'm a good mom, or can be a good mom, I need my space. Literally and figuratively. Always - especially now - I've been balancing work and kids on my own... and I get really fucking tired. And since I never had the finances required to balance these things, I've just had to struggle... and it's easy to get frustrated as a result. (I'm soooo that mom that doesn't live solely to be a mom, and I don't think that's bad. I love my kids. But I'd hire a nanny lickety-split just to have time to jog, or go to the mall by myself... with no shame).
When you struggle for years financially, it's so easy to think poorly. Though I realize that rich and poor are not necessarily a balance in your bank account. It is truly a state of mind. I must remember that regardless of good fortunes or misfortunes, I have to keep my eyes above that horizon line, to keep my gaze on these things that I truly want and aspire to. I can't even tell you the last time I felt truly taken care of...(aside from recent kindness)... I always feel so taken care of at home... my parents' house is so nice and spacious - and grown up - all the makings of my dad's hard work. And though I always assumed I would, I haven't been able to truly take care of myself like that -- financially speaking. Always knew I would be successful, just wondering when the hell that was going to happen. It has always been my job, since I moved here 12 years ago, to take care of myself and give myself the life to which I grew accustomed...and it's not about things, it's about a feeling of knowing that I can depend on myself to keep the bills paid, and never have to fret about the basics. I have pared my life back to such a degree that I truly have only the essentials to deal with, and hope to stay that way regardless of where I go in life. And I do plan to go up...
I have to remember to keep my sights high... To keep my gaze higher, and not allow myself to slip into this moderate, ho-hum thinking. I need to remember what I'm capable of and what I want out of this life, and set my goals and aspirations to match this...
I have realized a lot about myself tonight. When you take yourself out of your environment and into a, well, better environment, it's easy to reflect on what you are missing.
Space, for one. The simplest terms. Humans need their space. And my living situation is tolerable, but far from ideal. I'm working to remedy that and provide more for us.....
I know I can be edgy, and it's because, while I know that I'm a good mom, or can be a good mom, I need my space. Literally and figuratively. Always - especially now - I've been balancing work and kids on my own... and I get really fucking tired. And since I never had the finances required to balance these things, I've just had to struggle... and it's easy to get frustrated as a result. (I'm soooo that mom that doesn't live solely to be a mom, and I don't think that's bad. I love my kids. But I'd hire a nanny lickety-split just to have time to jog, or go to the mall by myself... with no shame).
When you struggle for years financially, it's so easy to think poorly. Though I realize that rich and poor are not necessarily a balance in your bank account. It is truly a state of mind. I must remember that regardless of good fortunes or misfortunes, I have to keep my eyes above that horizon line, to keep my gaze on these things that I truly want and aspire to. I can't even tell you the last time I felt truly taken care of...(aside from recent kindness)... I always feel so taken care of at home... my parents' house is so nice and spacious - and grown up - all the makings of my dad's hard work. And though I always assumed I would, I haven't been able to truly take care of myself like that -- financially speaking. Always knew I would be successful, just wondering when the hell that was going to happen. It has always been my job, since I moved here 12 years ago, to take care of myself and give myself the life to which I grew accustomed...and it's not about things, it's about a feeling of knowing that I can depend on myself to keep the bills paid, and never have to fret about the basics. I have pared my life back to such a degree that I truly have only the essentials to deal with, and hope to stay that way regardless of where I go in life. And I do plan to go up...
I have to remember to keep my sights high... To keep my gaze higher, and not allow myself to slip into this moderate, ho-hum thinking. I need to remember what I'm capable of and what I want out of this life, and set my goals and aspirations to match this...
Thursday, September 4, 2008
somewhere i have never travelled... e e cummings
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously) her first rose
or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously) her first rose
or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands
Friday, August 29, 2008
My Goal: Jungle Hiking in Costa Rica
My goal before I got pregnant with my first baby was to get in amazing "Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider" shape and then take a jungle hiking trip in Costa Rica.
I want to experience hiking through heavy brush, dripping in sweat, then soar along the tops of the trees on one of those canopy-ride things. I want to cool off in the ocean, and later crash exhausted but happy (and hopefully not alone) in a plush, net-covered bed.
So this is my goal, once again. Since I'll be in shape from training for my half-marathon in May (ha!), hopefully I'll have the $$ to take my trip to Costa Rica soon after.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
A good day
Written Aug. 15, 2008
i took my boys to my favorite park today that has the most spectacular view of the harbor, and dozens of white sailboats skimming through the water. i watched the boys ride their bikes while i read a few pages, and then we laid in the grass and watched the clouds for a bit. they told me to shut my eyes, and when i opened them they were standing over me with roses they picked for me. and once again all was right with the world...
i took my boys to my favorite park today that has the most spectacular view of the harbor, and dozens of white sailboats skimming through the water. i watched the boys ride their bikes while i read a few pages, and then we laid in the grass and watched the clouds for a bit. they told me to shut my eyes, and when i opened them they were standing over me with roses they picked for me. and once again all was right with the world...
My postcard town
Written Aug. 19, 2008
I took a walk around my postcard town today for the first time after a several week hiatus due to spraining my ankle. It's a perfectly breezy, sunny day and it felt like waking from a kind of coma to get back out and about again. This was my daily routine for months, and then it simply - stopped.
I love my town. Paying so much to live in California makes sense if you live somewhere that makes your heart sing, and my little town does. My baby boy and I took a walk to the post office to mail a package to a family member back home, and on the way we chatted about things (it's amazing the conversation this child can hold), while we kicked tree fruit on the sidewalk like small orange soccer balls.
I think about my home in Florida. The place that holds all of my childhood memories like building cinder block forts in the pasture, chasing my 4-H steers down our driveway, and sneaking out my bedroom window before midnight to go to a Goth club on the bad side of town with my friends. The driveway where I experienced my first real, heart-stopping kiss. The same driveway, where four years later, I watched as he drove away and out of my life forever. And where I, at age 21, packed up and drove off in Betty, my brown and gold '83 Dodge van, toward a quest for a new adventure in California... Not realizing at the time there would come a day when I ached to return down that driveway and be back home.
I've been contemplating the idea of home, and what that truly means, and where I belong. It has to be more than the place you keep your things, where you get your mail. It's the place where you feel whole. The place you rest your heart. And it's people... the ones who, when we are near them, make us feel that we are, well, home...
This place has my heart. All of you here, you have my heart. And for right now I am content to find my joy here on my own with my two boys, in my little postcard town with its sunny breezes and white sailboats that skim through the cerulean sea, and plenty of sidewalks to stroll as I dream.
I took a walk around my postcard town today for the first time after a several week hiatus due to spraining my ankle. It's a perfectly breezy, sunny day and it felt like waking from a kind of coma to get back out and about again. This was my daily routine for months, and then it simply - stopped.
I love my town. Paying so much to live in California makes sense if you live somewhere that makes your heart sing, and my little town does. My baby boy and I took a walk to the post office to mail a package to a family member back home, and on the way we chatted about things (it's amazing the conversation this child can hold), while we kicked tree fruit on the sidewalk like small orange soccer balls.
I think about my home in Florida. The place that holds all of my childhood memories like building cinder block forts in the pasture, chasing my 4-H steers down our driveway, and sneaking out my bedroom window before midnight to go to a Goth club on the bad side of town with my friends. The driveway where I experienced my first real, heart-stopping kiss. The same driveway, where four years later, I watched as he drove away and out of my life forever. And where I, at age 21, packed up and drove off in Betty, my brown and gold '83 Dodge van, toward a quest for a new adventure in California... Not realizing at the time there would come a day when I ached to return down that driveway and be back home.
I've been contemplating the idea of home, and what that truly means, and where I belong. It has to be more than the place you keep your things, where you get your mail. It's the place where you feel whole. The place you rest your heart. And it's people... the ones who, when we are near them, make us feel that we are, well, home...
This place has my heart. All of you here, you have my heart. And for right now I am content to find my joy here on my own with my two boys, in my little postcard town with its sunny breezes and white sailboats that skim through the cerulean sea, and plenty of sidewalks to stroll as I dream.
Life
Written Aug. 24, 2008
I was crying to my mother on the phone like a little girl just days ago telling her that I just wanted to come home... That I would leave everything behind if I had to and get on a plane with my children and come home and fall into the arms of my loved ones and find rest. To get a break from having to fight so hard to figure out this life and struggle to keep my head above this rising tide. I'm tired.
It was one of my weak days, as I call them, and I know I'm allowed to have them. But then within days, like always it seems, the fire is relit - either through quiet resolve or sparked by being so fucking pissed off that the fighter in me jumps to her feet again ready to go another few rounds.
Of all the bad cliches I could tag to my current situation, "rollercoaster" sums it up. My life plans seem to ebb and flow on a daily basis and I am, to use another cliche, trying to "think outside of the box" to give stability to myself and my boys.
But beyond all of this, I know who I am. And I keep reminding myself that these circumstances, at least, are keeping life interesting. It's helping to sharpen my ability to problem solve and also shaking out some of the areas where I am weak - like finances and bill-paying and expense report filing and anything number-crunching which makes me cringe and I always find 10,000 reasons to walk away, or dance in my kitchen, anything but face what I have to face... And it's not a pretty picture. But this will get better, in time... Great men and women survived the Great Depression... I will survive mine.
I still have my hopes and dreams firmly intact and in many ways, I am living them - even right this minute. Life, on the whole, is good and I have many reasons to be thankful and many reasons to smile. I have two amazing little boys who love me, the best friends in the world, a beautiful family who are my rock and my net, and hope, my greatest lover.
I was crying to my mother on the phone like a little girl just days ago telling her that I just wanted to come home... That I would leave everything behind if I had to and get on a plane with my children and come home and fall into the arms of my loved ones and find rest. To get a break from having to fight so hard to figure out this life and struggle to keep my head above this rising tide. I'm tired.
It was one of my weak days, as I call them, and I know I'm allowed to have them. But then within days, like always it seems, the fire is relit - either through quiet resolve or sparked by being so fucking pissed off that the fighter in me jumps to her feet again ready to go another few rounds.
Of all the bad cliches I could tag to my current situation, "rollercoaster" sums it up. My life plans seem to ebb and flow on a daily basis and I am, to use another cliche, trying to "think outside of the box" to give stability to myself and my boys.
But beyond all of this, I know who I am. And I keep reminding myself that these circumstances, at least, are keeping life interesting. It's helping to sharpen my ability to problem solve and also shaking out some of the areas where I am weak - like finances and bill-paying and expense report filing and anything number-crunching which makes me cringe and I always find 10,000 reasons to walk away, or dance in my kitchen, anything but face what I have to face... And it's not a pretty picture. But this will get better, in time... Great men and women survived the Great Depression... I will survive mine.
I still have my hopes and dreams firmly intact and in many ways, I am living them - even right this minute. Life, on the whole, is good and I have many reasons to be thankful and many reasons to smile. I have two amazing little boys who love me, the best friends in the world, a beautiful family who are my rock and my net, and hope, my greatest lover.
The LaMere Project
written Aug. 1, 2008
i know that it's every woman's right to have a child, and that it's also her responsibility to care for those children. but for moms who do it on their own, the task seems insurmountable. children's home society offers government aid for moms of a certain income bracket, but if you make more than poverty level, you'll never be considered for the help you need to pay for daycare. often, it seems, moms are just a few hundred dollars shy each month, and need that extra push to get them over the hump. but because they don't have that extra bit of help, despair sets in... it's a vicious cycle that many working single-income moms face. it's seems nearly impossible (trust me on this) to find quality, affordable care for your children that allows you to work full-time and still bring home enough money to live -- after paying for the childcare, that is. childcare should cost something, of course, because it's an important service and daycare workers need to make a living too. but there has to be an answer to this problem...
i'm lucky that i haven't ever had to pay most of my income on childcare, yet was still able to work full-time. (i work from home which has it's own set of challenges, but is luckily cost-efficient). but now i need to make more money and am right back in that vicious cycle again, of needing to find a job offering a substantial jump in pay to make the effort worth while.
my heart goes out to the women like me who make too much because they want to make something of themselves and get ahead in life, yet still don't make enough to get by without scrimping and scraping and struggling from month to month. i think about you often and you are in my heart and prayers. help will come... and soon...!
i know that it's every woman's right to have a child, and that it's also her responsibility to care for those children. but for moms who do it on their own, the task seems insurmountable. children's home society offers government aid for moms of a certain income bracket, but if you make more than poverty level, you'll never be considered for the help you need to pay for daycare. often, it seems, moms are just a few hundred dollars shy each month, and need that extra push to get them over the hump. but because they don't have that extra bit of help, despair sets in... it's a vicious cycle that many working single-income moms face. it's seems nearly impossible (trust me on this) to find quality, affordable care for your children that allows you to work full-time and still bring home enough money to live -- after paying for the childcare, that is. childcare should cost something, of course, because it's an important service and daycare workers need to make a living too. but there has to be an answer to this problem...
i'm lucky that i haven't ever had to pay most of my income on childcare, yet was still able to work full-time. (i work from home which has it's own set of challenges, but is luckily cost-efficient). but now i need to make more money and am right back in that vicious cycle again, of needing to find a job offering a substantial jump in pay to make the effort worth while.
my heart goes out to the women like me who make too much because they want to make something of themselves and get ahead in life, yet still don't make enough to get by without scrimping and scraping and struggling from month to month. i think about you often and you are in my heart and prayers. help will come... and soon...!
Me as a Mom
Me as a mom - written July 25, 2008
i belong to a mom's group but i never go to any of the events. i don't do park dates or play dates or the other things most moms do. it's just never stuck. i take my boys to do fun things like go to the park and the beach, disney, the zoo, and fun cultural events where they get to play and do arts and crafts. but im not a play date mom. i sometimes wonder if that's bad. i like to share mom stories with my girlfriends and tell people the funny things my kids do, because they are hilarious, but i don't enjoy sitting around and chat about breast feeding or the pros and cons of attached parenting or vaccination shots. i never cared about having the latest boppy gizmo or the coolest new stroller. (and if i have another baby, im doing that wrap thing). i don't think being a parent is trendy. it's really, really hard work and sometimes i think i fail miserably on a daily basis. im the mom who's always running late, throws the lunch in the bag, lets my oldest pick out his own clothes which means he may or may not match (which i think is adorable) and his shirt may be on backwards. He's 5, it's fine, let it go. i recently cut our toy inventory by half and need to keep giving some things away. i think it's a trap of parental guilt to think love means buying stuff for your kid. i don't think you should love kids with things. you should love them with love. time. fun. and a clean house free from the clutter of damned toys all over the place. no matter how hard i try, i cant seem to, for the life of me, get them to sit down and be good in public when they are wound up, so i just go home. im still not sure what to do about that, but id like to give the finger to anyone without kids who sits and passes judgment. yes, cereal can be dinner and no, you can't have a happy meal. i think that baths are important, of course, but if we skip a day, oh well. i always seem to be the mom who forgets the birthday parties, because if you give me a paper invitation instead of emailing me the info - forget it. that's something i'm working on...
i belong to a mom's group but i never go to any of the events. i don't do park dates or play dates or the other things most moms do. it's just never stuck. i take my boys to do fun things like go to the park and the beach, disney, the zoo, and fun cultural events where they get to play and do arts and crafts. but im not a play date mom. i sometimes wonder if that's bad. i like to share mom stories with my girlfriends and tell people the funny things my kids do, because they are hilarious, but i don't enjoy sitting around and chat about breast feeding or the pros and cons of attached parenting or vaccination shots. i never cared about having the latest boppy gizmo or the coolest new stroller. (and if i have another baby, im doing that wrap thing). i don't think being a parent is trendy. it's really, really hard work and sometimes i think i fail miserably on a daily basis. im the mom who's always running late, throws the lunch in the bag, lets my oldest pick out his own clothes which means he may or may not match (which i think is adorable) and his shirt may be on backwards. He's 5, it's fine, let it go. i recently cut our toy inventory by half and need to keep giving some things away. i think it's a trap of parental guilt to think love means buying stuff for your kid. i don't think you should love kids with things. you should love them with love. time. fun. and a clean house free from the clutter of damned toys all over the place. no matter how hard i try, i cant seem to, for the life of me, get them to sit down and be good in public when they are wound up, so i just go home. im still not sure what to do about that, but id like to give the finger to anyone without kids who sits and passes judgment. yes, cereal can be dinner and no, you can't have a happy meal. i think that baths are important, of course, but if we skip a day, oh well. i always seem to be the mom who forgets the birthday parties, because if you give me a paper invitation instead of emailing me the info - forget it. that's something i'm working on...
ISM: SK8OLOGY Online Charity Auction
I can't skateboard worth a damn. The last time I attempted was 12 years ago in a parking lot in the desert where I managed to "do" (or whatever the proper action verb is in this context) an Ollie and fell and hurt -er- mildly scraped my elbow and decided I was over it. (This instance could have been a clue for me later on in my life that I am not, nor ever will be, cut out to be a roller derby girl).
But I still love the art of skateboarding - and yes, I do think it's an art. Especially reflected in these beautiful skateboard decks, on auction now as part of ISM's SK8OLOGY online charity auction.
They are quite lovely, and proceeds benefit the local arts.
My MySpace addiction, and a new goal...
It's been far too long since I've posted regularly here.
Sweet Paper Posy, I have abandoned you. I realize that. I've instead been a fool about my MySpace page. Posting photos, posting blogs, and putting up and taking down videos like it's a damn virtual yearbook. I like bulletin boards for things like photos and magazine clippings and quotes and things and MySpace has become that, or a sort of shrine to myself.
If it all has to go somewhere, this is a good place... this blog started out as a place for all of my thoughts and so I've come back to you, my sweet neglected post. And since I have only two readers (who already love me and I them - hi Heidi and Shana!), there's little risk of embarrassing myself too badly here....
So, some great new developments in my life. One of the most exciting (that I'm willing to share at this time) is my new goal to get in shape again, after losing out on about two months of walking/jogging time due to my bum ankle. But I'm not just running to run -- I aim to run a half-marathon next May! Ahhh!
Yes, this asthmatic, pain-phobic chica is going to spend a morning running 13.1 miles - and this is happening in about nine months! Talk about labor pains! I'm nervous about reaching my goal, but I'm determined. I also signed up for a 2K race in mid-October to get my feet wet, so to speak, with a goal of running the one-mile-plus race in 15-20 minutes without stopping or walking.
I'm on Day 2 of my training and so far, it's been pretty rough. Lots more walking than running going on, but tackling these steep Dana Point hills nevertheless. I'm definitley out of shape and have a lot of work to do! One step at a time...
Sweet Paper Posy, I have abandoned you. I realize that. I've instead been a fool about my MySpace page. Posting photos, posting blogs, and putting up and taking down videos like it's a damn virtual yearbook. I like bulletin boards for things like photos and magazine clippings and quotes and things and MySpace has become that, or a sort of shrine to myself.
If it all has to go somewhere, this is a good place... this blog started out as a place for all of my thoughts and so I've come back to you, my sweet neglected post. And since I have only two readers (who already love me and I them - hi Heidi and Shana!), there's little risk of embarrassing myself too badly here....
So, some great new developments in my life. One of the most exciting (that I'm willing to share at this time) is my new goal to get in shape again, after losing out on about two months of walking/jogging time due to my bum ankle. But I'm not just running to run -- I aim to run a half-marathon next May! Ahhh!
Yes, this asthmatic, pain-phobic chica is going to spend a morning running 13.1 miles - and this is happening in about nine months! Talk about labor pains! I'm nervous about reaching my goal, but I'm determined. I also signed up for a 2K race in mid-October to get my feet wet, so to speak, with a goal of running the one-mile-plus race in 15-20 minutes without stopping or walking.
I'm on Day 2 of my training and so far, it's been pretty rough. Lots more walking than running going on, but tackling these steep Dana Point hills nevertheless. I'm definitley out of shape and have a lot of work to do! One step at a time...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
