tak a cup o' kindness

happy new year. almost. in a few hours, it will be 2016. how do you feel about that? i'm ok with it. i don't expect it to be much different than 2015, i guess. probably the same equal amount of bad and good as this year.

are you ringing in the new year at a party? i'm not. i'm home. wearing my flannel jammies and a baggy old sweater and some old slippers that my daughter once gave me. i cooked myself an early dinner of some lobster (yeah, really, it was on special) and am now enjoying a beer. i'm listening to a jazz album that i bought at the half priced bookstore today to play on my new little retro record player. i'm quite cozy. if you were here, you'd be cozy too. after this album plays, i'll put on my charlie brown christmas album that my daughter and her husband bought me. also, i spent a good part of the day at the library choosing several books to pick from for tonight's reading. oh. and one more thing, to set the scene- i have not taken down my christmas tree (because after all, i only quit celebrating it just yesterday.) so i have the regular lights off and am writing by the tree lights.

a friend texted me a bit ago and asked me what i was doing tonight. i told her and added, "please don't worry about me, i don't have any cats."
she knew what i meant- that i wasn't all lonely and sad with cats crawling all over me. and i'm not. there were a few things i could have done tonight. if i hadn't wanted to stay home. and i think you're only really lonely if you have absolutely nowhere you could go.

but i was out and about most of this week and i'm going out tomorrow night and have a full weekend planned. so, it is by choice that i'm hanging out alone tonight.

so here is what i'm musing on all alone in my cozy new year's eve nest:

i had a quick chat with another friend earlier tonight as he was getting ready to go to a party. out of the blue, as we were saying "later"- i told him to have a cup of kindness for me. i guess, in my head i was thinking about the auld lang syne song because it's new year's eve. i don't know. it just popped out. so. i've actually always rather liked that song. it seems kind of sweet. in a sweet sort of way. and so i looked it up to listen to it on youtube and found a version sung in "old english" or funky scottish or something with a translation and the line i quoted to my friend turned out actually to be "we'll tak a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang's syne."

for old time's sake.

and when they put it that way, i understand the song differently than i ever have before. before i always thought people were looking back on the year or years gone by with wistfulness and longing with a twinge of sadness because the year was coming to a close. they hated to see it go. but when they put the word yet in there, it changes the meaning for me. it means that the past may still yet be too painful or close to look back on with kindness or longing, but let's drink to feeling better about it someday.

and of course, that interpretation may be all wrong, but i have to say i, personally, rather like it. because you know? there are a number of things in the past that i've not really ever come to grips with. and really, if i had my druthers, i'd forget about completely. to say it more clearly, i'm still unsettled and unhappy about some of the past. i'm still angry and don't look fondly upon some of it. and i still regret some things as well. at the same time, times gone by deserve some reverence. because it's stuff you lived through. so "we'll tak a cup o kindness yet" sounds hopeful, doesn't it? like someday the rerun of your past won't be like some horror show to you? and more like a hazy montage with some nice jazz music playing as it runs on the screen.

but you know? i just was looking up the burns' poem that the song was based on and it seems it is really the pining of a broken hearted soul- whether it was actually written by burns or whether it's an old Scottish folk song. it's certainly sad.

"since you have rob'd me of my Heart; It's reason I have yours: Which Madam Nature doth impart to your black Eyes and Browes: with honor it doth not consist, to hold they Slave in pain. Pray let thy rigour then resist, for Old long syne."

He's begging her to come back. because of the times they had.

"But since that nothing can prevail and all hopes are in vain; From these rejected Eyes of mine still showers of Tears Shall rain: Though thou wast Rebel to the King and beat with Wind therein, Assure thy self of welcome Love, for OLd long syne."

he gave up. sad. all the more reason for a "cup o' kindness"

and i suggest we all tak one. (-:

and so just now i read that Japanese department stores play this at closing time to shoo customers out of the store. maybe the best use of the song i've heard yet.

anyway. time for another beer. time to start on a book. Happy New Year to you.

Dumb

This morning was a delicious Sunday. Slept until 9:30 and then drank four cups of coffee while finishing a book I'd been reading. I read without stopping,, except to refill my coffee cup, until well into the afternoon.

Then when I finished the book, I thought i ought to go over and put my time in on the treadmill and exercise bike. Never occured to me to eat. I never even thought about it or felt hungry. So, I go get on the treadmill and along about 25 minutes in, I start to feel light headed. But I think- good grief, I can finish five more minutes.

Except i couldn't. I felt myself starting to swoon and promptly go off and sat down on the floor and put my head down. I started sweating and my heart was pounding. i just thought I'd wait it out.

So as it happened, there was another girl in the fitness room, a girl I nod to on a regular basis. and apparently even though her back was to me, she sensed something was wrong, got off her treadmill and came over and said, "hey, you ok?"

And because I really couldn't deny it, i told her no. And I asked her to get me some water, which she did. And then she got this old fan they keep at the back of the room and aimed that at me.

When i came to a bit, she insisted on walking me back to my apt. And gave me her phone number and made me promise to call 911 first and then her if I felt faint again. I promised I would.

I texted her later to tell her thanks. And then even later she texted again to check in on me. She was so very nice. And i just felt dumb.

Really, you can't not eat, drink only coffee and lay around half the day and then go get on the treadmill. That's just plain STUPID.

And dumb.

Anyway, I drank a lot of water and ate and then felt just fine. And actually wanted to go back to finish my workout. But I just felt too dumb to show my face there again today.

Hopefully, tomorrow, I will be smarter.

Oh dear, what can the matter be?

So the day i gave birth to my first child i worked all day, including running the swimming program for our entire school, then came home and made dinner, then went to an aerobics class (low impact, pregnancy aerobics) and then came home and felt miserable. Actually, I'd felt perfectly miserable all day. But no one knew it. Cuz i didn't complain. Then when I went in to full on labor, I was home alone. So, it sort of seemed like labor, so I called the hospital. They said not to worry and to relax. So I tried. But then I felt worse and worse r, so I called back. They again told me it would be hours, if not the next day. So, I was compliant and waited Til my husband came home and simultaneously, I started bleeding and he just called them and told them we were on our way. We barely made it. But we did. And all was well. But later, when i asked them why they didn't believe me when I said I thought I was in labor- they said it was because i was so calm on the phone. They said, anyone going through that stage of labor should have been way more agitated. I couldn't believe it. I said, "but I was TRYING my heart out to be calm, so you wouldn't think i was hysterical. and i didn't call earlier because I assumed you'd tell me it was too soon, then. I waited to call til I was completely sure I needed to call. i guess I'd hoped you'd take me seriously instead of assuming I didn't know what I was talking about.

So the reason I tell you this story is to illustrate a flaw i seem to have. I keep pretty quiet about things that concern me until I reach the state of overload. I wait too long to react and then when I do, sometimes people think I must not be all that serious because I never spoke up before. And they underestimate me I think. Because for the most part, I'm nice and I don't complain until I feel it's absolutely necessary.

So a about two weeks ago, I switched banks. the day i recieved my debit card and checks in the mail, i also got a promotion in the mail about a cash reward when you opened the account. So i took the little card and I went to my new bank and said I'd like my reward, please. The manager told me no. Said I would have had to have had that card the day I opened the account. So I was nice. But i Quietly with a smile, pleaded my case. And he said there was nothing he could do. he didn't take me seriously.
He rather "politely" ushered me out, figuring that this quiet, little old lady in his doorway would leave it at that.

Well, he was wrong. I was quiet, but I was mad. it didn't seem like they should treat people like this and i quietly stewed for an afternoon and evening And then, i decided that if they treated me this way, they'd treat other people this way and so, i consulted higher authorities and lo and behold, I got my reward. And I'm going to guess that the branch manager is now getting demoted, if not losing his job. not that I asked for that, but i made it quite clear that this was not a good customer experience and they shouldn't want those kinds of interactions in their banks.

And the point to me isn't that i should or shouldn't have been upset, but that i wonder if when I am upset, I should say so more immediately instead of thinking that people will take me seriously just because I've said something.

I mean, I don't want to be a scary, pushy, forceful person all the time. I'm actually pretty laid back and easygoing until something stands out To me as concerning. I'd guess I'd just prefer that people take me seriously and/or do the right thing, just because they should.

Oh, who am I kidding?

I come from a family of overachievers. I do. They are all fabulous, wonderful people who have accomplished much in this world. They win awards and stuff. They deserve them. They deserve all the credit they get. All the accolades. They are smart, caring, compassionate, and accomplished people. They work hard. It's a good tree.

And then... There is me. I like to pretend I'm a good person. But really, who am I kidding? no, I'm not a complete derelict, but neither am I very good either. I am extraordinarly lazy. I'Ve done mean things. I've made huge mistakes. And then, I've made them again. Just because I could. I think horrible, horrible thoughts. I get angry. I get jealous. I whine, sometimes. and really, if I could think of ways to not get caught, I'd exact vengeance on people sometimes.

I'm not vegan or even vegetarian. Why? Because I like a good cheeseburger. To this day, I'd smoke a pack of cigarettes a day if you let me. Maybe two. I cannot handle liquor. But I drink anyway. Because I like to. I don't do drugs, but only because I just don't care to.

If you let me, I'd sleep everyday Til noon. And never get out of my sweats. I'd never exercise and I'd eat beef jerky for lunch. daily. There really is no end to my mean and slothful tendencies. I have no ambitions. To be anything.

I would eat spoonfuls of salt if it were socially acceptable.

I don't worry about the rain forests or the oceans. I don't give money to keep dogs from being eaten. Although I think about it once in awhile because I've known some good dogs. But beyond signing petitions, i don't act.

I don't go to church anymore at all, except with my mother. I love my mother, but i don't feel comfortable around her. Probably because she's a good person and I'm not.

I'm just not. I won't try to kid you anymore.

Core cares

Here are the things I really care about- gun control- we should get us some. Public education- we should support it fully instead of giving our tax dollars to privates and charters. Separation of church and state- there should be a huge divide between them. Funding planned parenthood and supporting a woman's right to choose- women should not be held hostage by hateful old white men and all children should be wanted. We should get a universal and single-payer healthcare system- people should want to take care of each other. We should feed the hungry and house the homeless- just because we can. We should be good to our environment- I'd like the planet sustained for my grandson. Children should be allowed to play and there should be ample recess time in schools-play is how we learn when we are little. All people whomever they are should be allowed to fall in love and get married- because well, a God who hates that is just not really a god. We should not use high stakes tests to judge students, teachers, or school- competiveness is crap when it comes to this.

Oh. And I also believe i should try being a kinder and more honest person. And so should you.

Grown ups

When I grow up........Yeah. Yeah. I know. I'm already grown up. I'm grown old anyway. And I'm well past the age where there is anything much new to look forward to. Not to say, i won't enjoy moments, travel, learn new things, try new things, etc. But on the other hand, I'm not likely to launch a new career or find a new love or have any real life-changing events ever again.

So a friend group texts a bunch of us last night. She's traveling for business, and she expresses she is sitting by herself in a bar with maybe 10 men, but not a one even looks at her. And she's depressed by this and wants to know what's wrong with her.

And we joke around with her and make her laugh and tell her what is true- that there is absolutely nothing wrong with her. That she's pretty and smart and a good person. And of course, that she's not old. Except that part is not so true. She's old. Actually a year older than me.

And here's the reality of the situation- she too is pretty much done as far as newness goes. She's not going to grow up and have a new life enfold before her either. No rich, smart, handsome millionaire is going to pick her up at the bar and offer her a wonderful job or a happily ever after. That doesn't happen in the real world. And if it does, it will turn out to be a dream, and he turns out to be a jerk.

But here's the difference between her and i- I'm all grown up and realize this reality. She still thinks it might happen when she grows up or something. And she's depressed-while i am not.

That's the thing about really growing up, it might be you know you're there when you are ok with how things are even if they never really change.

Glowing in the dark

there's this guy i work with who is just delightful. He's maybe in his 30's and he's gay. And he's the most upbeat, positive, sweet, energetic, enthusiastic, and kind person I've ever encountered. And he's not fake either. He's through and through exactly genuinely all of this. He doesn't have a dark side. It's nevr dark anywhere he is.

And he must have been raised by hippies or something because he believes in sunshine and rainbows and wearing a smile at all times. And it's apparently his mission in life to make everyone feel good about themselves. He has a compliment for everyone. If there's good, he'll find it and point it out. and he makes you feel like you are the most special person he's ever laid eyes on.

Tonight I walked into the room and he says, "oh! You're here!! And you are just adorable! Look at you! I always love to see you because you always look so perfect." I laughed and protested, " Don't be silly. I'm wearing jeans and a t shirt for Pete's sake. I wasn't even expecting to come in tonight. I have my grungy at home clothes on."

"Oh, but you're the kind of person who can throw on anything and wear it! You have a style about you." And then he turns to anoth coworker and says, "isn't she? Isn't she the kind of person who can do that? She just glows, doesn't she?" Turning back to me, "All the time, you just glow, you're that kind of person. You have that kind of beauty that just glows."

So it's hard to know what to say to such. So I say, "you're so sweet." And then he beams. He literally beams. So he's beaming and according to him, I'm glowing. And the funny thing is this- even though I know that I'm really rather mousy and goofy looking, somehow I believe him just a tiny teensy bit. I think maybe i am glowing, just a little bit at least. And even now, I feel a little like I'm glowing here in the dark.

The first tear

The wise folks on Pinterest inform me of lots of things. How to turn crayons into candles, how to tell if someone is lying, 127 uses for baking soda and vinegar. Facts about dogs.
Of course I believe it all. Because I'm gullible. And I believed this little fact right up until yesterday afternoon- that when you cry, if you're sad, the tears will fall from your left eye first. If you're happy- from the right.
So I believed that up until yesterday when I was reading something that was exceedingly sad to me. It was something about 9/11. And I can assure you of these things- It made me sad. It made me cry. And the first tear streamed from my right eye.

I don't like to cry. And truth be told, I rarely do. I cry much less than the typical man even. According to pinterest. Which also claims that women cry far more than men.

But really. I don't cry much. There was an era of mine where it was hard to stop myself, it's true. But that involved menopause and the fact that a person I loved crushed my soul and that i was grieving To start with. So, that explains that era. But before and after that- it really can be said that nothing much made or makes me cry.

And if I do cry, it's usually more because of frustration or anger. And it's usually brief.

But yesterday. It was sad. The deep kind. The quiet kind. The kind where if someone was behind you And couldn't see your face- they'd never suspect you were crying.

But so anyway. That's how I know that pinterest is wrong. Either that or I am. Just a wrong mixed up person. Because the first tear fell from my right eye.

So yesterday

So yesterday. It was an important day. In someone's life. Not so much in mine. That's not to say it was a bad day. Had a nice visit from my brother and sister in law. And celebrated the birthday of my one x sis in law at a nice new restaurant. All good. And a good time was had by all.
But it wasn't necessarily an important day for me. In the grand scheme of things. But if it was an important day for you, i wish you well. Even if i shouldn't.

Crossing the lines

So, i crossed over a line the other day. A personal line of behavior that i set for myself. The line wasi would never call someone a derogatory name or assign them a derogatory classification in public. That goes for individuals and for groups. I will allow myself to call someone's actions stupid though, because i don't think that's unkind or unfair to state my belief or my personal judgment that an action is stupid or any other adjective I might use.

Some might say my line is too fine and i should refrain from that too. But that's not how I feel about it, so it's not where I draw my personal line.

anyway, I'm not going to argue that with you. If you think that makes me a bitch or unkind or that I think I'm a god or something, that's ok. That's your opinion. It's just not mine. If you'd like some shinier penny who walks like she's on a rainbow and talks like a flower all the time, you go on ahead. And marry her. That's just not me. And i don't think it's healthy.

That all said- i will actually really hold back a critique, if I know the person who committed the action is sick or injured, is grieving,or cognitively disabled or mentally ill. I'm at least that kind ok? and even if you give me no reason to hold back, another line i draw is that i will try to make it known that any judgment of your behavior is my opinion only. I will say that I could probably do a better job of that than I do. Sometimes I give you enough or too much credit for knowing that. And I shouldn't.

So now- all that said! I will tell you how I crossed my line the other day. And why. And the why is NOT an excuse; simply a notation so you'll understand my thoughts.

So, I'll start with why. It started with my answering in the comment section, my thoughts on someone's FB posts. Actually, it wasn't a statement, it was a question. But it was the kind of question that implied my thought while it asked. And so someone answered. Not with a question or an answer or a rebuttal, but with an insult to me.

Some other people joined the thread and made arguments. I ignored her insult and answered the other posts. But then, she insulted me again. So this time, i spoke up for myself. And all was ok until later in the discussion, I cited an article. And wham. She came at me again.

At this point, I was plenty angry, but I knew that a bully can feed off your answers if they are not strong enough. And quite honestly, by this time, I was fairly convinced that while maybe she wasn't cognitively disabled,she wasn't all that bright. But I was still angry, so i pleaded my case to the originator of the thread. Telling him, that since he knew her, he needed to get her to stop OR I was afraid my anger was going to get the better of me. And if it did- I was quite convinced I would take it upon myself to annihilate her, verbally.

The person took the thread down. Ended it. But, I was still angry because he hadn't really stood up to the bully and told her that her behavior was out of line. I felt that he should. As my friend. And as a bystander to bullying.

So suffice it to say. I was angry. And admittedly immature about it. And in a post about something similar as the original topic, i labelled Republicans as stupid.

Childish, oh hell yes. Over my personal line. You betcha. But, I did it all the same.

And i am both sorry and ashamed. As I should be. And I am vowing to try to never, even if angry, cross that line again. I hope to be successful.

Here's what I am up against though. In my heart of hearts, where I can be true with my feelings, I actually do think a lot, if not most Republicans are just not very bright. And the ones that I think might be bright, i think are either ignorant, delusional, or worst of all- uncaring and unkind and selfish. I am stressing first that this is ONLY my opinion. And I am stressing second that I realize I'm crossing my line right this second. Just know though, that I'm only crossing it because I am trying to help you understand why my vow is a hard thing for me. In the same way, it's difficult for someone consumed with racism to hold themself back from behaving as a racist, it's hard for me to hold back my beliefs.

Another thing that makes this hard is that I'm human. And when I'm sick or stressed or grieving or angry or hurt, I am pretty weak. And while I believe it is still my responsibility to find a way to cope with any of those things, I truly am not mother theresa and I know it. So, hopefully on any day that I might slip, you will be. And you'll forgive.

Once in a land far away and in a time that was fictional, i voiced an opinion about something to a person who I loved, very much. An action, more or less. But because i was anxious and I was writing quickly, i dropped a comma from what I was saying. That comma would have made what i said what I really wanted to say. That I thought someone was trying to make a buck off his worries and concerns at the expense of those worries and concerns. The lack of comma made it sound like I was insulting him personally. When I explained, i was told I was forgiven. But the truth of the matter is that I never really was. And it later became plaster in a wall between us.

And so maybe I am still wrong to judge or express my judgments or opinions. But here's a rub with that. If I don't do that, I feel that I'm not speaking up against evil. Whether it is real or only my perception. So, in the end, I still have to keep my line where it is. I just really need to do a much better job of not crossing my line.

Maybe...

Maybe... The kindest man I ever met in this world died last month. I only found out just yesterday though, so the shock of it is still ringing in my ears. And in my head. And in my heart.

Sad. It really doesn't begin to cover the way I feel knowing this guy is not in the world anymore.

He was an artist. A talented one. More than a talented one- a gifted one. who, for the most part, labored in obscurity. Not that he cared. He just made art because that's what he was compelled to do. To earn a living, he taught. Art to high schoolers. and he was gifted at teaching too. Never have I seen a teacher who was more beloved by his students or who loved his students more. All his students. All of them. The ones who were artistic and the ones who were not. He especially loved one who was severely disabled and even had to use a computer to speak. He was mischievous. Loved to play jokes on his kids. But never mean. Just wanting to make them laugh and to understand humility and humanity. And love. He saw something special in every one of them. Every single one. He wished he'd had children of his own. His marriage failed. He drank too much. He'd show me proudly, the ranks of his kids who'd made it big in the world of fashion. Of graphic design. Of whereever Art led them. He'd tell me of the ones who sobbed their stories out to him. He foiled more than his share of bullies. The administration hated him. Because he didn't care about what they did. His classroom was where the misfits went to each lunch and to have someone smile at them just one time that day.

The man had a wicked sense of humor. A constant smirk of amusement. A twinkle always in his eye. A throaty laugh that came straight and often, from his heart.

Once he showed me the portfolio he made to get hired for his first teaching job. Back when portfolios were all the rage in hiring teachers. I'd seen a million portfolios. Most of which made me want to gag. His made me cry. It was a poem.

I think he was a poem.

How does a poem end? In this case. In his sleep. All alone. His heart giving way to something else.

He was a chain smoker. A chain drinker. To my great disgust, he was a lover of nascar. I would tell him, " if you would give up that dirty habit, I'll marry you." He would smirk and laugh and say, "you don't want to marry me." Emphasis on the ME. and he'd wink. Because he knew my heart was still somewhere else.

He was a wonderful, hearty cook. He'd message me and say, "please come up, I want to cook." I'd say, "ok." He didn't drink wine. But he always made sure there was wine for me.

He loved heartwarming movies. He loved movies about history and wars. He was something of a patriot. Although I always thought that was wierd. He had a wild mixture of conservative and liberal beliefs. He loved movies for little kids. He had a little sports car that he somehow acquired through a trade. But most of the time he drove the cheapest car that could be had. Which at the time was a pt cruiser. Ugg.

He did not like to go out. Except to his backyard where he grew vegetables and flowers that would make you drool.
He was dirt poor. He made his own furniture. Built the frames. Sewed the cushions. When his mother was dying of cancer, he moved her in. And cared for her. Until she died. He missed her openly and everyday, afterward. He had a grey cat named smokey who HATED me. I hated smokey back.

One time we went out somewhere nice. I dressed up. I wore make-up. He said, "wow" when i came to the door. He looked dashing. We were a pretty couple really. We ran into one of his students who told him he should keep me. He said, "if I could..."

He loved the Sunday paper. Sunday mornings were coffee, lying on the living room floor, cigarettes burning, pouring over every page. Front to back.

You couldn't make him angry. No matter how hard you'd try sometimes. You just couldn't make him mad. And after awhile, you just didn't want to.

He had not one speck of ambition. He loved technology. He could write like a dream. But rarely did. He was a good listener. In that he'd listen all the way through anything you'd be having an angry tirade about that day. Then. He'd hug you. And then you'd be ok.

He grew up poor. Dirt poor. Hungry every day poor. If he'd not had art, I doubt he'd have gone to college. I think he'd be in jail for misadventures. His sister was a college professor. His brother was i don't remember. He loved him but they were too different to be close. His dad was a drunk. His mother, a saint.

I don't know. I think maybe.... Maybe I loved him.

I think maybe i didn't realize it until yesterday.

I'd let him go. At some point, I just couldn't see us being together and I told him we both needed to move on. I remember i was mad because he didn't really protest. He just accepted what i said. I stopped coming over to dinner. We remained friends. On facebook and occassionallyon the phone. He moved away. We emailed. He invited me to visit. I didn't go.

I let him slip away. And then he slipped away. In his sleep.

And now on hearing, I am sad. Blue.as a girl can be.

And maybe? Maybe I loved him.

I mentioned he was kind. He was kind. you could hear it in his voice kind of kind. And I'm sad that all that kindness has passed out of this world.

Maybe.....

Nevermind

Hopped on to tell you a story. but you know what? Now i don't even feel like telling it. So, nevermind.

Hello

Hello. You're back, I see.

I am back here too. I know why I'm here. But why are you? It's a curiosity to me.

Go away. There's nothing to see here. Ok. Don't go away, but please don't expect anything of me either.

So, it's been a good week. I was rewarded for my work. There was a spot of dry weather yesterday so I could sit out on the deck and write a long letter to a friend while i sipped ginger beer. i got asked to help manage a facebook page because I've "got a keen eye" and I'm "a good writer."

I had a really nice weekend to remember. i had my first experience with opera. I had duck.

It's been a lousy week too. A good friend's brother died after a long illness. It continues to storm and rain. As it is right now. i jammed a shredding machine 3 times today. I got a paper cut. My left leg hurts for an unknown reason.

Tomorrow night I'm going out with a gaggle of friends for dinner. That will probably be good.

So there. Now you know what is going on in my life. Now, how about telling what is going on in yours?

Mt. Doom and the weekend

well, i finished the book i was reading. just before it needed to be returned. but i renewed it anyway. because i'm so hooked on so many bits of it, i want to pour over it again. ponder it again. it has left me feeling both better and more torn up. and i have to turn it over some more. like a pancake or something. (i know. i am so poetic. (-:)

so i finished this book while sleeping at a friend's house following a fourth of july celebration that i helped to host. and after everyone had left or had gone to bed, i laid on my designated sofa and fought drowsiness to finish it before i fell asleep. i failed. and instead felt compelled to finish it on our host's balcony this morning with my coffee while the others that were staying over were rehashing the party or the newspaper with their cups of joe.

i was drifting in and out as a finished it. partly reading fervently, partly delighting in hearing recounts of the party, partly wondering why my coffee at home never tastes this good, partly remembering a stilted conversation with the person i was sitting beside during the fireworks the night before who i think may have been clumsily hitting on me while i was clumsily trying to ignore the fact that i thought he was hitting on me. because i wasn't sure. and when you're not sure, you deny. right? so at the very least he was checking me out. but i'm fairly certain i didn't impress him except when i happened to make a comment about the anatomy of the eye. other than that, i am certain he left believing me to be utterly stupid. and uninteresting.

anyway. i finished the book. clear to the end. but my heart stopped right between pages 293 and 294. and i've been stuck all day thinking about what was on those pages. even while i was watching the steve martin movie, roxanne, which is how i dream that life could be. where it all ends happily ever after after all. where it doesn't matter what you look like, but words count when they should count. and even if you are misunderstood at first, eventually the lover understands what is really in your heart. but life, alas, is not one bit like that, now is it?

so

"the point of Buddhism," he said, "is that it is natural to live with wounds. Everyone has wounds and will be wounded. This can be shocking at first, but in fact it is completely normal. That's basically it." And so it was with grieving, he said. Intense grieving was recognition of this wound, and it always took a person some time to grow accustomed to it." ..........

"Language was not the only thing that worried Minami. Money bothered him too. He did not like the iniquity that money had created, and he was not a fan of capitalism. He was very dubious about the efficacy of counselors and therapists to console the grieving; this was a monetary transaction, and any time anyone took money in exchange for "help," one ought to be suspicious. Better to come to Mount Doom, where a person could grieve the dead. "mind you, " he said, "i believe in the dead. They are very different from ghosts. This is not a place for ghost watching. This is a place for grief."

Perhaps all that is not profound to you. or maybe it even makes no sense. but no matter to me. this post isn't about you or for you. it's about me. and for me.

i was reflecting on my way home today with my bike fastened securely to the back of my car how the two dead people i loved the most always thought i was better than i really was. which makes me afraid to meet them again in any afterlife. because i know they know now just how truly awful i am on the inside. at the same time i reflected that the one alive person who i love(d) the most (besides my children and grandchild) in the end believes me to be more truly awful than i really am inside. which makes me want to see him again in the afterlife so he can know how very wrong he was.

sometimes i have nightmares about running into him on an airplane or something. he'll be sitting up there in first class where he belongs and i will be schlepping past towards my economy seat all clumsy with my carry-on because i can't afford to check my baggage. and he'll be sitting beside the imposter that should be me and he'll look up just as i am realizing "oh god, it's him." and in the better endings i'll throw up on him. and then faint. and then i'll wake up and it will all be a dream i had while moving through business class and into my seat. and in the worst endings, i'll just glare daggers at him before moving along down the aisle. and resuming real my place in the world.
where i'll be the last one off the plane. to make sure our eyes never meet again because i know if they do, i will probably throw up on him. unable to speak all the things that i would like him to know. about me.

"intense grieving was recognition of this wound, and it always took a person some time to grow accustomed to it."....

one more thing the weekend brought me was a chance meeting of the nephew of someone that i rather ran away from just a couple of years back right when it might have turned into something. this nephew said he would be seeing this person next week. i asked him to remember me to his uncle. because i did like him. but i couldn't at the time get a ghost of the someone else living out of my head. and i know i hurt the guy's uncle. but i only hurt him before i could hurt him more. i wished i could have the nephew convey that. but of course i couldn't.

so while the words spoken about mount doom literally make the distinction between the dead and ghosts at mt. doom- i believe i will choose to understand them more figuratively. in that while i'm not trying to watch a ghost, i am trying to grieve to the point where i become accustomed to it. someday i am hoping that it will feel natural to live with wounds. and not like a person whose rods and cones aren't working.

4 noble truths and a lie

wakare. i read that in Japanese that means parting. owakare is apparently a final parting. as in a death. apparently, in japanese, any time you add an o at the beginning of a word that makes it a bigger deal.

i'm reading all this in a book entitled, "Where the Dead Pause and the Japanese Say Goodbye" It's about Japan after the earthquake, tsnami and nuclear mishap. it's a little about the Japanese culture. and it's about grief.

it's interlaced with concepts of buddhism and the shinto religion. it's all very mind opening to me. as a good book should be, i guess.

i'm reading it on the heels of reading a book about rosa parks. i'm reading it on the heels of all the both great and terrible things that have happened in the world as of late. i'm reading it on the heels of a bit of a down cycle in my head lately.

it's not that i'm depressed. i'm not, really. just not at my sunniest self. which either comes from not being with people enough or perhaps with them too much. i can't really say.

what i can say is that i think it started upon meeting this guy, who is just a friend (really) and is going through an unwanted (on his part) divorce. he is now part of a circle of friends that i've acquired down here. and here's the thing. he seems to want something from us that most of the rest in our circle seem prepared to give him but for some reason i can't. i can't be upbeat with him when that's what he wants and i can't be sympathetic with him when that's what he wants. i just can't. summon anything at all for him. i find myself wanting to distance myself from him. and the whole group.

because he's rather like a ghost to me. what he's going through (with far more grace really than i ever had) is something i don't want to remember or be haunted by. an unwanted parting. a big old messy pile of grief. i just don't want to be near it, hear about it, empathize it or be reminded of it in anyway. and i find myself withdrawing.

which makes me a lousy socializer. and a lousy friend. and quite possibly a lousy human being. especially when i think how very much time, love, and understanding my friends gave to me back when.

there's a lot of talk about ghosts in this book. apparently the Japanese are big on ghosts. which is something i didn't know even after having been there four times. there's talk about noh theatre which is apparently usually about a chick being dumped. who knew? anyway, i can handle all this in the book. but i can't handle it all in my life. perhaps because i can put the book down if i'm too overwhelmed. and the book is not offended. not sure. but i can fade out. and then fade back in. when i can do it.

i was intrigued by the discussion in the book between two shrine priest who were comforting survivors of the disasters when one told the other that he must never give more than an hour to any one person at a time. because more than that and it would eat you up and you wouldn't be able to console anyone. i'm also intrigued by the concept of bodhisattvas who are beings who could be buddhas but who stay behind on earth and help ease human suffering. i'm definitely not one of those.

the first noble truth in buddhism is that life is full of suffering. the second is that suffering is caused by human attachment. the third is that we can rid ourselves of suffering if we rid ourselves of attachment. but the 4th and final is the kicker- and that is to end suffering and cease attachment, one must live correctly.

apparently there is an 8-fold path to this living correctly. perhaps, i need to study on that path of right living.
because right now, i'm having trouble understanding all this. how do you strive for no human attachment when life seems to be all about human attachment? i'm not an eastern thinker, so there must be something about detaching that i don't grasp. perhaps my understanding of detachment is warped. or at least different. because while i seem to instinctively know detach from people these days, it seems more to isolate me than to bring me closer to helping to end suffering. my own or anyone else's. all i know is that i've got enough of my own ghosts to deal with- i don't feel like i can take on anyone else's.

i don't have any wrap it up conclusion to this post. i don't know how to end it. just as i don't know how to end suffering in the world. so let's just part for now. wakare.

what a long strange trip it is

so such a lot has happened since i last wrote. both in my personal life and in the world life.

to recap my personal life, my daugher and her wonderful husband were here visiting, i had a nice brief ttalk with my x and my grandson hit a grandslam. there was much more to it of course, but those are the biggies.

in the world, oh my oh my oh my. the church slayings, the bruhaha over the confederate flag, the boston bomber sentencing and apology, the supreme court upholding healthcare. what a lot of stuff that boggles the mind. and the heart.

so you all know by now how i feel about everything. i think the slayings heinous, racism insidious, the confederate flag needed to come down before it was put up, the boston bomber may be sincere, but the ship has sailed. and my governor is a grownman sized toddler pouting over the fact that people will be able to keep their healthcare.

it occurs to me that we all spend our days on one of two things. trying to figure out life or trying to figure out death.

you'd think maybe if you were to read my fb posts of late that i was mostly pondering over the slayings and the confederate flag thing. but as so often is the case, what i'm talking about isn't really mostly what i'm thinking about.

i'm thinking about so many other things really. and it's all tied up with something that i just still haven't found a way to articulate. even while i feel it most sincerely.


''the story of life is quicker than the blink of an eye. the story of love is hello, goodbye." Jimi Hendrix

Outstanding in my field

I think one of the most stupid and untrue things in the word is the notion that you can forgive something but still keep your distance from the person you forgive. Because I really think that if you truly forgive them, you will allow them the same place back in your life. And if you don't, you haven't really forgiven them. Here's the thing though. I do not think it's really necessary to forgive everyone. Sometimes I think it's just ok that you don't forgive, so long as you don't become vengeful or anything.

But returning back to actually forgiving people- here is a Rumi quote that I found in a book i was reading that I think describes forgiveness to a T: "Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right doing there is a field. I'll meet you there."

After my heart

So, I'm sure all grandparents are in love with their grandchildren. I am no exception. And i don't know if this is pc to say or even if it makes sense, but I think it's easier to love your grandchildren than it is to love your children. I guess because you don't feel that pressing responsibility to get things right with your grandchildren that you did with your children. Your only real job is to love them. And enjoy their sweetness and their silliness.
And their perfection and their imperfection. And even when/if you are worried about them, you have the longer view that comes with age maybe- that nothing really matters except making sure that grandchild knows he is loved.

Anyway, it's a good gig being a grandma. And I'm happy to be one.

Everything is not everything

I read that. In a book about a mathematics professor seeking out the origin of the numeral zero. The guy related the concept of zero back to Hindu and Buddhist roots. And that's where "everything is not everything" comes in. Eastern philosophy.

That's quite the concept, yes? As is "anything is true, or false, or both true and false, or neither true or false."

All this reminded me how small my mind is. math And eastern (and western) logic mystifies me, really. But even so, I have to say that to me there is something soothing and comforting in the everything is not everything concept. It can be stretched in my head to mean that even if things suck, that isn't the final view or only way it's ever going to seem. I know that's not really what it has to do with, but i don't think there's any harm in understanding it in a way that makes you feel better.

That's either true, false, not true, both, or neither, right?

Avoiding the issue

Well then. It's a cold day in hell. Well,ok. I don't really know about hell, but good gosh, it's cold out here. Here is not hell. It's not heaven either, of course, but it's much farther away from hell than my life used to be.

Let's count the not hell things:
1. I like my semi-employed status. A lot.
2. I like that I'm not chronically sleep deprived like I was for sooooo many years.
3. I like my friends. I have good ones and some really great ones.
4. I love my family. I do.
5. I love my cheap apartment.
6. My car has been dependable, even if it is red.
7. There is sherbet in my freezer.
8. I like that I can ride my bike to work.
9. I like summer, and maybe someday it will be here.
10. I like that I can watch old re-runs of grey's anatomy while I'm on the treadmill.
11. I like that I live right beside the walking trail.
12. I like that I can stop writing this list whenever I want.

Which is now.

Let's face it...

So you all know that the reason I started this blog was to have somewhere to put my feelings. It wasn't to communicate great ideas. I mean, you know, i don't really have any of those. It wasn't to entertain. Clearly- because while friends sometimes tell me I'm quite funny, on here I am not, really. I never strive much for levity, anyway. And it sure wasn't to communicate with anyone because let's face it- there are about 2 people who ever read this blog.
So, as I said, this blog was about somewhere to throw out my feelings to someone, anyone, who will listen. Because let's face it, if a tree screams in a forest and no one is around to hear it- it hasn't really screamed at all, has it? Again- if there really ever is anyone listening. It's sort of a message in a bottle crapshoot, I guess.

So, I'm reminded of why I started this today because of someone else's grief. And the thought that this person might need to speak to a counselor. Which in theory, I think is a good idea. But here's the rub- I would want this person's counselor to be really good. Really good. And let's face it, there are so very few people (psychologists) that really are any good. I know this. I tried a lot of them before i wound up here. And please don't think I'm a spoiled brat who won't listen or heed any counseling advice. I listened good. And i heeded much too much and I am convinced now that I just plain wasted a huge amount of money.

Because here is what I know after all these years, many tears, money spent, crazy things done, and angry tirades spoken- I know that anyone who walks away from you while you're grieving, complicating your grief multiple times over , is a plain old fxxxing asshat. A miserable human being. And a jerk. I don't care what other nice qualities they might have, or things they have accomplished in life or even if they are mother Theresa or if you love them beyond your life itself, or if your behavior and words were jerky too. I don't care. And that's what they should have told me from day one. And on day two, they should have figured out a plan to have me find a way to better dispell my grief. Like for instance, you know what would have helped me? If one of them would have said- "it's ok if you write him- write away, just before you hit send- let's you and I talk over what you wrote. Then if you still want to send it- have at it." give me a plan that addressed what I needed and help me! You know?

THAT would have helped me a lot! Instead I got all this wasted time- let's talk through your feelings, let's give you an anti-depressant, let's explore your past, life is a journey, grief is a wondrous part of the human experience kinda crap that I got.

So ok, I've vented for myself here- as this blog was intended for. But now I want to talk about what I think will help this person I know who is grieving- a plan! A plan about where to put and express what they are feeling. A place to put those feelings. and An action plan to use when it all gets to be too much.

Because, let's face it. Sometimes it is. Just too much.

Holding it

My friend asked me if I felt finally that I knew who I was. We were discussing life and all that. I said, after some thought, that i did. Because at this point in my life I finally feel free to be who I am. I am not bound by any circumstances to be anything other than who I want to be.

And I like that. I have nothing to hold in or hold back. And it strikes me that not much good comes to anyone or anything for people holding things in or holding back. Doing so really hurts people, I think. Moreover, I think it hurts you.

Oh anyway. Another friend recently asked me if I was happy. And you know? I just might be. I'll hold onto that.

psyched

so i read this little tidbit of info on the internet the other day. it said that psychology claims that if two past lovers can remain just friends, its either they are still in love, or never were.

so hmm. i've thought about that since i read it and i'm not sure whether i think it might be true or not. but then i got to wondering if the flip were true. if two past lovers can't be friends, are they either still in love or were they never?

so well, just thinking over the major relationships of my life- here's where we stand friends-wise.

so there's really only one x-lover of mine that i'm definitely not still friends with. i can't think that we ever will be friends ever again. although that's something that he'd promised me once. oh well. you can't believe much of anything anyone promises you, you know.

then, i think i'm more or less friends with my x husband. although i'm not really sure of that exactly either. i guess i'd like to think we both forgive each other enough not to hate each other. and i don't really mind talking to him. so i guess we're friends. of a sort.

there's another former "guy" that i'm friends with now. although for a great long while, i was furious with him and hated him. but that was rather a misunderstanding on my part, i guess. but things are cleared up now and i would actually say we are good friends now.

and then there's one more i'll talk about- from when i was young. and i can't really say we are friends now, but we parted as friends. and i've no reason to think that we wouldn't get along just fine now if we were in proximity.

but even after i think through these, i'm still not sure if either claim about ex lovers and friends still being in love or never being in love is true or not. and quite honestly the more i think about it, the more confused i get about it.

taxed and feathered

taxes. do you have yours in the mail? or will be you be one of those rushing to the post office tomorrow? i almost was. i mailed mine monday. which is the latest i've ever sent mine in. but you know? i just kind of put it off because filling out forms that i don't really understand is something i hate. a lot. i don't really even mind having to pay money when i have to as much as i just hate filling out these forms. i hate that i don't know why i'm entering the numbers from box 2 into a line for what looks to me like a fairly arbitrary reason. i hate that you should staple somethings but you must paperclip others. do they have a department of staples and paperclips there at the irs or what? anyway, the whole thing just makes me crazy. so now that i don't have to have them done for the fafsas for the kids anymore, i procrastinate.

this year i am paying 41 dollars to the federal government but getting back 46 dollars from the state. that is if i've stapled and paperclipped correctly. i am up five bucks. yay. me.

one year i did my taxes online. which appealed to me but the following year things were a bit more complicated and i had to seek help because i couldn't even figure out how to answer the fairly simple turbo tax questios. and since then, i've had help. i will say however, that i do think that if i absolutely had to, i could do them myself again now. but i choose not to. i'd rather have someone else do them and spend half my time complaining to them how stupid i think the process is.

why can't they say, "if you make x, you pay y% of your income each year. and if you havne't paid it throughout the year, pay it now." seems to me that would be easy. you'd know ahead of time what you had to pay. and that's be it.

why make it any harder than that? i know people want deductions for their kids but you know what? i look at it this way, if you have kids, that's your choice. donn't like how much they cost, don't have them. or have less of them. and then there are mortgage exemptions. what the heck are they about? you get money back because you bought a house? why? i don't get it.

anyway, i just hate the stupid forms and processes. i really don't at all mind supporting our schools (so long as i'm not supporting private or charter schools) or the fire department or the police department. i wouldn't mind supporting libraries or the post office with my taxes. i like paying for city parks and the people who fix the potholes. i'm ok with all of that. i'm even ok with being taxed for water and electricity services. just stop with the stupid stupid forms and exemptions and such.

so i'm relieved. the misery of taxes for this year is over. i now feel light as a feather. until next year.

confessions

so i confess. i'm a stalker.

please don't worry, i'm not a dangerous one. in fact, the reason i stalk is to ease my mind really. so that i know things are just as they were. because if i didn't know things were just as they were, you see, i might explode.

do you want me to explain that? well, too bad. i don't really know how to explain it. except to say that it reassures me that things are as icky as i thought they were. and that i'm better off being where i am than being where i might have been. i certainly wouldn't want to be that person. that person is grating in almost everyway to me. if that doesn't make any sense to you, well again- too bad. that's the best i can explain it.

ok, i'll try to do better. you see, there's someone that i find to be ridiculous. completely and totally. and so, when i see them continue to be ridiculous, it reassures me that i have escaped from ridiculousness.

that truly IS the very best i can do to explain it. and i will say no more.

next confession- i am vain. i do think i know which end is up when many people don't. what makes me angry is when i do know, but i can't do anything about it. oh well. it's hell being a sociopath, don't you know?

third confession- i am seriously selfish. seriously, seriously selfish.

confession quatro- i have wasted a great great portion of my life. i am sad about that. but you know what? i do vow to do better. i do.

and finally, confession five- most of the time, i don't really know what i'm talking about. (-: ah well.

ain't i somethin?

it must be my week or something. i've gotten more compliments from all kinds of people in the past two days than i have in a year's time.

let's see. i've been called smart. as in really smart- really-that's what they said. "wow, you are really really smart." then, someone told me that i have gorgeous legs. then someone else said this to me, "when you were young you must have had a rocking body." which i guess is calling me old, but i choose to take it that this person meant that i still had a decent form for an old gal. then a person i was training told me that i was a wonderful teacher. someone else said that was patient, understanding, and nice. and oh yeah, this morning i was called a hard worker and appreciated very much. oh and then i was called "funny." as in the good kind of funny- not the strange kind.

i mean really! what's with all this? i mean it. who gets complimented this much in two days time? not me. usually, any way.

but well, here i am telling you all about it. so the next thing i'll be called is vain. and my streak of compliments will be over. it was nice while it lasted.

isn't funny though how you can make impressions on people like that? they can see you or things about you that you don't see about or in yourself? and even though you don't believe them really, it makes you feel nice and special-ish to hear them.

so did i really get on here just to brag on myself? actually no. i got on here to talk about something else entirely. and then suddenly, i decided i didn't want to talk about it. so i decided i'd rather talk about something that wasn't sad or upsetting. so this is what you got. it's all i could think of right now. so you got me talking about how great i am. ain't i somethin?

when i grow up

a friend of mine is looking for something new in her life. she quit her job. and is now considering what she can do next. and actually as we were talking things over, an idea occurred to her that appealed to her. and i hope that she can make it work, and it turns out well. i can see no reason why it won't.

during the course of the conversation though, i reiterated and she understood that i don't seem to have much ambition to do or be anything better or anything else.

and as i said, she understood how i felt, because another part of our conversation was how truly frantic and overwhelming our lives used to be.

all that said, i can't retire, retire. for financial reasons, and for don't want to turn into a puddle of mush reasons.

but that said, i don't really know that i want a challenge either. i know i don't want a challenge. my life has seemed challenging. so i'm tired of it.

but still i feel this twinge. this sort of twinge that i'm reasonably capable, i'm healthy, and i probably could contribute to something or other. and so maybe i should. try to do something helpful to the world.

and maybe that's true. but i don't know. i guess rather than living to work like i used to- i want to work to live for a change. and to heck with contributions to society.

but back to the other hand, i feel guilty somehow. i feel like there should be some kind of point to the rest of my life. so maybe that's the point. that i don't feel right now like i have a point. i occupy space. i burn oxygen. i consume. so maybe i ought to give back or something.

because isn't that the point? the point of life? to be helpful to others. to be there for others? do things for others?

i don't know. maybe i should go volunteer for something. when i grow up.

hmmm...

so a friend of mine gave me the book written by Elizabeth Smart that details the events of her kidnapping. i'm not sure why he gave me this book exactly because i'd never, to my memory, expressed any interest in this story. or of knowing the sordid details. and i really never planned on reading it, except for i found myself bookless (i keep very few books anymore for space's sake) and it was night and i couldn't get to the library to get new books, so i picked it up and read it.

and what i was struck by in the book was that although she doesn't discount therapy for others who have been traumatized, what she claims is that she didn't need it to become whole and well again.

and well, you gotta think about that. by all appearances now, she is a happy, healthy, contributing individual and is not sad or bitter and doesn't ruminate on the horrible months she spent in captivity being raped and starved and other-wise ill-treated. not very many people could come out of that so unscathed, i'd think.

so i started thinking about why. first i think- she'd had a very solid foundation in life. with a family who loved her and whom she loved back. 2nd, she attributes a lot to having a very srong faith in god- which i think can help a person if they've got it. 3rd, when she returned, her family just allowed her to be and they just spent time with her on her terms. particularly her grandfather, who she went horseback riding with and told her, "ride more, talk less." and then- her mother told her very clearly told her this, "Elizabeth, what this man has done is terrible. There aren't any words that are strong enough to describe how wicked and evil he is! He has taken nine lives of your life that you will never get back again. But the best punishment you could ever give him is to be happy. To move forward with your life. To do exactly what you want. Because, yes, this will probably go to trial and some kind of sentencing will be given to him and that wicked woman. But even if that's true, you may nevr feel like justice has been served or that true restitution has been made. But you don't need to worry about that. At the end of the day, God is our ultimate judge. He will make up to you every pain and loss that you have suffered. And if it turns out that these people are not punished here on Earth, it doesn't matter. His punishments are just. You don't ever have to worry. You don't ever have to think about them again. You be happy, ELizabeth. Just be happy. If you go and feel sorrry for yourself or if you dwell on what has happened, if you hold on to your pain, that is allowing him to steal more of your life away. So don't you do that! Don't you let him. There is no way that he deserves that. Not one more second of your life. You keep every second for yourself. You keep them and be happy. God will take care of the rest."

so, yeah. i don't have that faith, as you know, but even without that part, what i think is that her mother is/was a genious here. She distinctly told her daughter that she shouldn't waste one moment more on evil. and she clearly labeled it as evil for her. Then, She distinctly told her that life should not be about revenge or sadness. and she distinctly did NOT say that she should or should not try to forgive the guy. she told her not to worry about any of that. none of that was required of her. in essense, she gave her daughter back exactly the centering she needed.

her daughter's life was retored to her. she was, in no uncertain words, told that she hadn't lost anything really, not love, not family, not her past, and that she should get (take) back exactly the life she had before. and she did.

i do find that inspiring. i really do. and well, you know? i think that if what you lost or had can be restored to you, there really is no need to go through counseling to be whole again. no need to waste your money. or time on it, really.

what maybe isn't so easy though, is when/if you can't have what you had restored to you. or maybe if you never had a good solid foundation. maybe then, you need extra help learning to be ok with your loss and/or your trauma. hard to say. but either way, i find what her mother thought to say to her, absolutely extraordinary. and i'm very glad that i read the book. it helps me put things in perspective in my life. because while i've never suffered anything close to her experience, i just think this helps me realize and expressly appreciate what finally put me on the road to being ok again after i suffered some blows in my life, and it wasn't really the counseling, it was the very steady and contant presence of friends and family, who let me know that i never had and never would lose them. all those things were restored to me. in fact, never ever left me.

and i think that even as my children are grown- perhaps the best thing i can ever do for them is make sure they know they will always have my unconditional love and support. no matter what touch times they might ever suffer. i'd like to think that although i was far from a perfect mother and that they had to live through their parents' divorce and aftermath, that i (with much help) did give them a pretty firm foundation to fall back on. i truly hope that they never once worried that they weren't loved.

the viagra women

so, my father as he got older seemed to develop more and more of an intolerance for heavy people. he wasn't (as he never was) out and out mean to them, but privately he would make comments that indicated that he felt that heavy people just weren't trying or something. and i guess i thought it was a bit out of character for him as he was never judgmental of appearances or other superficial attributes. and i didn't quite understand it until now.

because i have developed somewhat of an intolerance for older women with long hair. i just think they look stupid. and for some reason, it grates on me how very stupid they look to me. and nowhere do they look more stupid than on those viagra commercials. you know those women? they are usually lolling around on a bed or in the grass or on a beach or something trying to look sultry and sexy and alluring. and maybe they do to men who wish they could get it up like they used to. but to me, they just plain look stupid as all hell.

who are they trying to kid? they are not young anymore. their locks don't look luscious or lush or even mildly attractive. they either look like dried, dingy straw or they look like greasy, slippery strands of string.

so maybe cindy crawford or andie mcdowell can pull off this look in their old age, but for the most part no-one else really can. and i would even venture to say that it really doesn't look all that great on cindy or andie if you saw them on the street or something. i don't know that. i never see them on the street; they don't apparently walk down any streets that i do. but still and all, i'm betting they don't really look all that good and that they really look just as stupid as the viagra women.

i just want to tell them, "hey give it up, you're making an ass of yourself." but well, oh well. if they want to do this, well then, whatever. i think i may start carrying a pair of scissors in my purse though.

meat sacks

so you know. i go to a lot of funerals. i mean, i go to the regular number that normal people go to- relatives, relatives of friends, friends, etc. but then my former job involved going to a lot of funerals.

so i've seen all kinds. and that gives me a lot of perspective about what i'd want in a funeral for myself. and this kind of gets into the psychology of how you percieve human life. do you think you're a soul inside a meatsack or do you think you're just a meatsack that happened somehow to have perceptions, thoughts, and feelings while you were alive but that all disappears when your light goes out?

personally, i believe the latter. i think when your light goes out, it goes out, and that's that. except for the memories that living people have of you.

so in one sense, i believe funerals should be whatever those people who you left behind want. i get that. whatever helps them deal with the fact that you are no more.

but, if you just ask me what i want, i don't really want anything. i don't want people performing songs or putting up a pictoral history of my life, or releasing balloons, or a somber service, or a celebration of my life or anything. at all. i don't want a luncheon or a eulogy or hymns. nothin' that's what i want.

that said, i really basically would leave it up to my family, my son and my daughter to decide what they want. and what helps them. and if it would help them financially to do nothing at all, i'd be just fine with that.

i always laugh a bit when i think about how my brother and i made decisions about the funeral service for my father. my mother, of course, had her ideas, but for the most part my brother and i were ruled by the strong admonition by my father, before he died, telling us that we were not to spend a penny more than his GI bill covered. so when it came time to pick a casket, we went for the basic box. because it was cheap. and the funeral home people seemed rather upset with us, because my father was well known in our community and they figured we'd have a large, lavish funeral. and i almost felt like they felt we were skimping out, not just on their profits, but on his prominence in life. whatever, my brother and i didn't care. and it was one of the rare times in our lives, that i feel like my brother and i really bonded over something. and it amused us both no end. to say, "only the cheapest, for our dad." my dad would have laughed with us, had he been there. and that makes me happy when i think about it.

but so, yeah. i don't guess i want anything. except what satifies both of my kids. because after all, what am i besides a meatsack, except to them. i guess what i really don't want is for people to make more of me than i ever was. talking about me like i was wonderful and perfect, when i was nothing really but plenty-flawed and messed up and human.

nope

i had the ocassion on friday to visit one of the schools i used to work in. and i ran into several people that i used to work with.

and it is nice, very nice, to learn that you are severely missed. or that your work is missed, rather. it makes me feel a little bit like it was all worth it. and that you actually made a difference. but you know what? people missing me doesn't entice me to ever go back. people missing me and a huge pile of cash couldn't convince me to go back.

there is but one thing that could ever convince me to go back and do that again. and that would be if the only other ways i could make enough to survive were coalmining, working on a submarine, working as a pr person, or selling my organs.

yeah. it's not much fun being poor, which i recently learned i am considered. but i've got a warm apt., a running car even if it is an ugly color, food to eat, running water, and plenty to do, so i don't really see myself as poor as in unfortunate.

so, nope. not going back to those old days. even if i'm missed.

still, it's nice to know that i am.

a momentary gloat

don't you ever tell me that i don't know what i'm talking about.

because i do. i DO. I DO.

is there anything that is more gratifying than finding out you were right all damn along?

maybe if people would listen to you in the first place. that might be even more gratifying.

but being proven right eventually is pretty darn sweet.

sadly, it's tempting to say, "I TOLD YOU SO!" but i refrain as best i can. because that isn't nice.

it's not really kind at all.

but, deep down inside, being proven right when everyone thought you were wrong, feels pretty good. and because people spent all that time and energy doubting you and making you feel bad about yourself or like you were stupid- humanly- you do sort of want to rub it in. you do.

thank goodness my better nature eventually prevails though. but for right now, in secret here- i just want to gloat.

i'm promise i'll stop though as soon as i close this page.

ah, vanity

i was on tv this week. yeah. i was. i was interviewed regarding a local issue. and they used a small portion of the interview in the context of telling a story. and i did well. really. i sounded pretty darn articulate, actually. which i don't believe i very often sound when i'm speaking.

the tv lady even complimented me afterwards. she said i was quite knowledgable and seemed pretty at ease in front of the camera. so i felt pretty good.

until i watched the clip. i did think i sounded ok. as i said, articulate even. but then there's vanity. i looked SO OLD on camera. so very very very OLD. i had no idea i was walking around looking so damn old. i guess i don't look in the mirror enough or something.

now i did think my hair looked ok. not too long and not too short. good color (which is natural these days, by the way.) but my face. oh my heavens- crinkly eyes and forehead creases, and my neck. yech. and my skin tone. arggg. i looked 106.

but what ya gonna do? you get older, and you're going to look old, i guess. i don't believe in plastic surgery for cosmetic purposes, and i don't like wearing much make-up, and i really can't quit laughing so that my eyes won't crinkle or quit worrying, so my forehead won't crease. and my neck? well, my neck attaches my head to my body and it's got that enlarged, messed up thyroid thing going. so i can't really do all that much about my neck either.

so i guess i'll have to learn to live with looking this old. my grandson told me not long ago that i looked like i had about 25 good years left in me, after all. so i'll have to learn. but i sure don't like it. not one bit.

especially since it's likely only going to get worse.

today's pondering mind

"Every man is a piece of the continent, A part of the main.."


so, i heard a snippet of a radio program today about how some people want sealed adoptions unsealed. i'm not sure whether they were talking about just my state or if this is everywhere, but apparently there are a whole bunch of years of sealed adoptions that can't be unsealed unless they pass a new law.

the people being interviewed were so against these adoptions staying sealed, it was grating to me. and i guess i can see if you need some kind of health information, but you'd think there'd be a way to give a person that without divulging the identity of a birth parent.

i guess i just don't get it. i'm not adopted, of course. and i've never had a child who i put up for adoption. so i guess i'd be considered a neutral party. either that or someone who has no right to an opinion. probably the latter. but my opinion is this- the records should remain sealed as to identity unless the parent wants them unsealed so that they can be found if an adopted person is seeking.

one of my very best friends is adopted. maybe my most well-adjusted friend in the world. and she has never ever had the urge to look up her birth parents. true, she won the lottery with her adoptive parents, but she really just feels that there's no point in knowing. and she doesn't care. she has everything she needs to be happy in her life without that. i've never asked her how she'd feel if someday her birth mother came looking for her. i should. i'd be curious to know. i don't think she'd be that receptive though. but i don't know. i should ask her.

i know we're all connected in this world. but that doesn't mean we have to know everything about everyone, even ourselves, i think.

maybe, i think it's only important to know things if not knowing those things affects you somehow. otherwise i think you should leave it alone. and i just don't see how knowing whose body you came out of is all that important. who takes care of you is.

things that suck

well, that sucked, didn't it? the end to the superbowl that is.

i do so hate the patriots.

let's just list all the other things that have sucked lately.

the attack on public education by my state's governor and legislature.

tests that punish 3rd graders.

blizzards that aren't.

people who don't deserve good fortune having it.

people who deserve good fortune and don't get it.

when children die young.

when people are mean.

when people are indifferent.

when people aren't honest.

ok. so that's enough of that. talking about sucky things.

let's talk about something else.

whatever you want...

after you've counted to 10

it's hard to be articulate when you're angry. at least it's hard for me. rather than speaking clearly and directly, i sputter and i stammer, and i'm prone to dashing things to the ground. i can't think straight. and i can't reason well.

they say that anger is destructive. it is. that's true. but it's also a normal human reaction, right? to being hurt, to being dismissed, to being lied to, to being misunderstood, to being cheated, to being ridiculed, to being ignored, etc.

you can't stop yourself from feeling it. you can try to contain yourself, i guess. but holding it in is not good either. what do they say? that depression is anger turned inwards?

could be.

so what do you do with it? when exercise, meditation, screaming, yelling or crying don't work.

well, the only thing i can seem to do is write. write. write. write. write. write. and sometimes it helps to write to the person you're mad at. and sometimes it helps to write about the person you're mad at. and sometimes, it helps to just write about the emotion and avoid the specifics completely.

and it's not completely effective. but since i can't seem to be vindictive or violent, it's the only thing that semi-works. so i guess i'll stick with it.

creepy me

hmmm. have you ever creeped yourself out?

so every once in awhile i have thoughts about stuff that come true. and most of the time i can explain that by the fact that when i pay attention to stuff, i can make reasonably good guesses of what will happen next.

or sometimes, i'm sure it's just a coincidence. coincidences do happen. i get that.

but ok, two weekends ago i somehow thought something out of the blue that turned out to be true. i don't want to say what it was, but it was too specific to be just a random guess. and it was nothing i could have known about.

ok. so i can't explain it, but i rather shrugged it off. because it creeped me out too much to think about it. so i shrugged it away.

until today, i stopped at a starbucks because i had a gift card and i sat down by the fireplace to enjoy my latte and there was this guy sitting there a few feet away from me. and i looked at him and thought to myself "prostate cancer."

and i think, "why the hell did that pop into my head?"

so then this other guy came in and he and the guy i'd looked at greeted each other. apparently they were old friends who had not seen each other in awhile. and they moved to the seats behind me and proceeded to ask each other about each other's lives. and i eavesdrop. and well, you guessed it- the first guy told the guy he'd had prostrate cancer.

he quickly asserted that he'd been treated and was alright. which is nice and i'm glad. but i felt the need to leave then. it just sort of creeped me out that i took one look at some stranger who looked just like any other "trying to be hip" middle ager- you know- the requisite half beard thing, the trendy clothes, scarf on the collar of his coat etc. and diagnosed him with a disease.

and i think what creeps me out most is that there are things that pop into my head just as clearly about other people from time to time that i don't want to know and/or don't want to be true and now i wonder if they are true. and i'll never know. creepy.

Incomplete Regeneration

yEah. i've not written for awhile. partially, because i wore through another keyboard and i was waiting for the new one to come. but also partially, because i just didn't feel like writing.

i recently read an article about how writing is healing according to some study. literally and for all kinds of wounds. mental as well as physical.

i can't attest to the physical, i've never tried to heal a bruise or a bump or cut through writing. but i can attest to the emotional wound repair.

the nice thing about writing is that it doesn't require company. in fact, i find it rather hard to write when there is company around. i can't be alone with my thoughts.

so i avoided going to a funeral the other day. one of my former students succombed to muscular dystrophy. at least he made it to 21 years of age. i guess there's that. but i still have a terrible time with the early deaths. it just seems so wrong.

then in my back-home community there was a horrible event. a druggie couple gave drugs to the woman's 3 year old. "we put drugs in their bottles to watch them have fun." the 3 year old was put to bed where he died. then they hid the body for a day in a drawer. then on sunday the boyfriend and some kid hitched a ride with some woman to a nearby city asking her to stop part way there on a country road. there they walked into a woods and lit the saran wrapped little body in a box on fire.

the community is outraged and horrified. as they should be. vigilante hillbillies are calling for the woman and her boyfriend to be burnt alive at the stake. stuff like that. there's been a candle light vigil. there's been lots of discussion about the charges- what they are, what they should have been. there's been lots of blame. on drugs. on a lack of christian values, on a lack of community, on this, that, and the other.

me? i blame the christian right. for making it so socially unacceptable to abort a fetus that people completely unqualified to be parents feel they must carry through on a conception.

as for punishment, i'm not in charge of that. i believe that if i were, i would only put them in jail for life. i'm not much for vigilantism. i only want such people to live locked up away from me. and mine. and the only other thing i want to see is their six year place with some human people. away from druggies. and hillbillies. and the christian right.

but i'm sure that's not a popular opinion. likely people would be horrified to hear my thoughts. i don't care. it's what i think.

i should be at a birthday party tonight. partly my own. a group of us that i used to work with all having january birthdays. but i didn't want to go. almost as much as i didn't want to go to the funeral that i didn't go to. i just don't feel like being out too much this week. and i've already celebrated my birthday.

plus i've got my keyboard now, and i feel the need for some writing. there's a lot of digest in this month of january and wounds still to repair.

"The damage done in one year can sometimes take 10 or 20 years to repair." Chinua Achebe
"Repair means incomplete regeneration." Some Wikipedia article I read once

this year's look - a whiter shade of pale

i went shopping yesterday. yeah, i know. i hate shopping, but you see, i needed something. and since i really don't like to go shopping, i sort of made it a point to really look around and to get things that i will need in upcoming weeks, so that i wouldn't have to go back anytime soon. but..

i overstayed my limit. i have this limit on shopping. when i am done, i MEAN i am done. not ONE MORE STEP towards any merchandise. it is time for me to go. or i feel like i will topple over.

so, being past my limit, i hurriedly walked back to the anchor store that i parked by and then stopped and was standing at an intersection inside the store, trying to determine exactly which way were the men's coats. because i had the mental breadcrumb that i had entered the store right where they had men's coats. and i was hestitating, because it's a big store and i couldn't see men's coats nor could i find a sign that pointed to men's coats.

and i must have hestitated too long and/or too hestitantly and suddenly these two sales ladies (older women, mind you) are saying, "MAM! Are you ok?" not, "mam, can we slosh this perfume all over you?" not, "mam, can we help you find a nice sweater." but, "MAM! Are you ok?"

the alarm in their voices even made me wonder if they weren't talking to someone else? i turned toward them and it was clear that they were talking to me. so i say, "are you talking to me?"

and the one says, "yes, are you ok? you looked so pale, like you were going to pass out."

i replied, "ha, no, i'm fine. i'm just trying to figure out where men's coats are because i came in by men's coats."

with much relief registering on their faces, "she's alive!"- the other one says, "oh, go that way" pointing towards the north. i scurried off with as much vigor and vim as i could muster, lest they think their original assessment of my frail condition was correct, after all. i dashed out of the store and to my car.

now i realize that i'm a pale creature. of scandanavian descent. i realize that in the winter, i'm even paler because i can't get enough time with my friend, the sun. and i realize that being temporarily confused about where the men's coats could possibly be probably registered as a blank stoney look on my face. and i realize that i had gone past my tolerance for the cacophony that is the mall, but... BUT, did i really look that bad?

i checked in the mirror when i got home. i looked like me to me. just an average regular person. but i guess i'm going to have to try for a more john boehner look before i go out again. so that people won't think i'm collapsing or overdosing on drugs or something.

not an impossible day

well now. today is my birthday. how is it possible that i've made it another year? i don't know.

i've got the day off. yippee. i had the day off anyway because our program doesn't resume until next week, but as if that weren't enough, the school system where our program is located was called off for frigid temps on top of that. so i double have the day off.

so it's a nice thing to have your birthday free to sleep in, read, munch on junk, start a fire in the fireplace, watch old episodes of bonanza, and more or less anything you want. and friends are taking me out to dinner to boot. plus i can sleep in tomorrow also. it's all pretty good, i'd say. i feel fairly blessed.

plus all the nice facebook wishes, texts and emails and cards from friends and family, and a call from my daughter first thing in the morning. it all makes for a really pleasant birthday for an old woman, i'd say.

so what do i think about being this old? well, you know- i don't really feel this old. and i learned yesterday that i'm still capable of doing a cartwheel- although i didn't attempt a flip or a back bend. that seemed like a bit too much like impossible for me at my advanced age. i can still also stand on my head though. and that's good to know. because you just never know when you are going to be called upon to stand on your head, you know.

but the point is- i guess being this old is ok. as corny people, such as my dad, used to say, "it beats the alternative." and truly it does. i didn't always think or know that. but i do now.

and if i'm presented with a birthday candle tonight, i'll blow it out and i'll possibly even wish for something. even if i don't believe in wishing anymore. i'll wish for something small and nice, i guess, and not waste it on the impossible.

ex-paths

it's hard to know what to say when someone you know is hurting. and it's hard to imagine anything harder for a person to go through than the loss of a child. i can't fathom it really, anyway.

so this friend of mine told me recently that someone described him as an empath. i have to say that i didn't really know what exactly that was. i had to look it up. apparently it's when you can literally feel what another person is feeling. and you know what? i think i was one. once.

i think i learned not to be one too late. i could have saved myself a lot of grief if i'd learned earlier to not allow anyone else's pain in to such a degree. if i hadn't been empath-like, i could have carried myself better and a whole series of terrible events might never have happened and i'd quite possibly have lived in one of those happily ever after dream kind of lives.

but that didn't happen. what did happen is that i'm now permanently encased in iron or something. i'm steely, really.

and that's not to say i can't be empathetic anymore. and that i can't be sad for others, but i seriously am so encapsulated these days that nothing really ever gets past a certain layer. i can say and do all the right things, and i can feel for people, but i won't let myself actually feel what they are feeling. or rather, this hardened layer of scar tissue or whatever, doesn't allow me too.

it's really better this way. really better.

my hurting friend told me today, "i'm not bitter." meaning that she's bitter as hell and in pain with it. another person i know who went through something similar, completely lost her life-long certainty that there was a god. and yet another person i know when this same situation happened to her- turned to god. so one's bitter. one's angry. and the last one still has tears in the corners of her eyes. just ready to spill at all times.

personally, i just think it's better when you get to the point where you don't feel too much at all. you can be calmer and stronger. and more there for other people. you can tend to them because you're not having to deal with yourself.

maybe it's just growing up finally. and realizing that you have to learn that you can't carry the weight of the world all the time and still be of help to others. maybe it's that you learn you can't be a baby and be consumed and encompassed by your own feelings so you have to learn to shut them the hell off or shut them away from you.

i'm pretty darn too old to have finally figured that out. but how it was- was how it was, i guess. nothing i can do to change it now. i feel like i live in another country now sort of. not my own. an expat of sorts. i'm an expat empath. i think it's a better life.