so have you unfriended or been unfriended over the election yet? i have been unfriended. and i have considered it. and i have supported a friend who has unfriended. right now however, i'm not yet inclined to. on social media, i've decided to ignore the hatefuls, continue to be as opinionated as i want to be on my own page, ignore their pages, and if they come to mine to pick a fight, they'll get one. and if they choose to unfriend me, i'll tell them, "don't let the door hit ya."
i really don't care. i. do. not. care. there is literally no one that would unfriend me that i give two hoots about. and quite honestly, there is no one really who can rattle me by disagreeing with me, insulting me, calling me evil or stupid or ridiculous. (ok, i did once get rattled by this woman who was quite persistent in literally calling me stupid. and i told her friend that if he didn't shut her down, then i would. and it would not be pretty. and i never heard from her again.)
but that aside, i'm a fair amount of unflappable about people insulting me anymore. i suppose that comes from having someone who you thought loved you call you evil and vile. once the worst has happened, what the hell does any of the rest of it matter? it pretty much frees you not to care.
for the record- i am not evil. or vile. i make my share of mistakes. i'm sometimes clumsy and inarticulate. i'm pretty opinionated about stuff, and i'm not inclined to keep those opinions to myself. and if you insult me or my children, i may just snap if i've had no sleep, and insult you back. but that hardly makes me evil. or vile. it makes me a person who you might not like. but not evil. or vile.
but i'll tell you who is. the people who voted for trump. and Mike Pence. he is evil and vile. yeah, i know you thought i was going to say donald trump. you thought i was going to say he was evil and vile. and while i despise him, and he disgusts me, and i guess i consider him vile; i'm not really sure i consider him evil. i just think he's a spoiled brat jerk, and he's horrible and a ridiculous caricature of a man. but that's not exactly the same as evil. again. mike pence is the epitome of that. donald just wants to ruin other people's lives so he can look like a big shot because he's a narcissist. it's what narcissists do. they can't help it. they think only of themselves. pence, on the other hand, wants to ruin people's lives because he's deep down evil inside. and i honestly believe when he accomplishes an evil thing that it makes him happy. he might just be the anti-christ, if you ask me.
oh so anyway. i know i'm babbling. this week has exhausted me. anyway, i think i started talking about unfriendliness. and somehow it ended with calling pence the anti-christ. was that unfriendly?
Saturday, November 12, 2016
Sunday, August 21, 2016
Walking 22 miles in someone else's shoes
So, first- please don’t think that my writing this implies I really know what being actually homeless feels like. I’ve not slept under a bridge or in a car, or been without food for more than a day, or without a phone, or even a computer, for that matter. I’ve not ever tried to get a child ready for and to school with no running water or electricity, or even to get to job while lacking those things. But I did recently have an experience of being displaced from my apartment home that helped me to better understand the plight of someone who is truly homeless. I was only displaced to 22 miles away from my usual home in the home of a friend. So, no, I can’t speak to the sheer physical miseries of being out in the cold or the unrelenting heat. And no, I can’t speak to not having ample resources and cash on hand and no credit. But I can speak just a tiny-teeny bit to how disorienting and disruptive it is to not know exactly from day to day where you are going to eat, sleep, do your homework (I have homework for my job) and relax. And I’m also going to make further disclaimer here, that I really don’t fully know these feelings either because I have these gracious and wonderful friends, many of them who opened up their homes to me, plus I always had an end to my displacement (though constantly shifting) in sight.
What I’m here to tell you though, is that through my experience with all my relative comforts, resources, and advantages, I realize that I likely wouldn’t last a week in a true homeless state of being. ProjectHome.org has reported the following, “On a single night in January 2015, there were 564,708 people experiencing homelessness in the United States. Sixty-nine percent of those who were homeless were in sheltered locations and 31 percent were found in unsheltered locations (streets, abandoned buildings, cars, etc.).
Nearly one-quarter (23 percent or 127,787) of all homeless people were children, under the age of 18. Ten percent (or 52,973) were between the ages of 18 and 24, and 66 percent (or 383,948) were 25 years or older.” Let those statistics sink in. They make my spirits sink, especially now that I’ve had my displacement experience.
Now, first I want to tell you that my displacement was not at all or in any way my fault. That said, I don’t think it’s particularly helpful to any conversation about homelessness to assign blame to the homeless, and it’s silly to blame anyway, except in factoring in how much more difficult it will be to get out of the state due to certain circumstances. But regardless, it simply really doesn’t matter at all to this particular discussion why a person became homeless; I just want to share a little bit of what they may be feeling and the obstacles they face. This is my list of problems I faced being displaced that I think would be hundred fold for the actual homeless.
Confusion: As in “what day is it?” kind of confusion. “Is this the day I need my lesson plans or my data sheets with me?” “Where the heck is my deodorant, my car keys, my phone?” “Will I have time for lunch between job shifts today?” Where is the closest grocery store?” This kind of confusion constantly eats away at your energy level and your mental clarity. You don’t realize it would, but it does.
Fatigue: As in never really getting a good night’s sleep in a different place, fatigue. Day after day. As in waking up feeling like you never really went to sleep fatigue. As in, I wish I could just find somewhere to relax and close my eyes for 10 minutes this afternoon, fatigue. As in when I got a chance one day, I slept for 16 hours straight-fatigue.
Hunger: Ok, I never really experienced actual hunger, but I did have to spend much more money and energy on procuring meals. I couldn’t just run home at 2 and have my usual cottage cheese and tomatoes or my turkey sandwich. Where I was staying was 22 miles away from work and there wasn’t time to get there and back. And yes, I could have packed my lunch, and I eventually did after a few days when I got myself organized, but that did involve me having a kind friend with a refrigerator that I could put stuff in. But, even so, I certainly ate out a lot more than usual and at odd times as well. What I’m trying to say is that eating became pretty much a chore, rather than something I rarely think much about or when I do, I usually enjoy. So, a joy from my life, turned into a hassle would be the best way to describe this. And so when you think about criticizing the homeless for eating junk food or even for having a cigarette, for pete’s sake, think about this- do you really begrudge them something that makes them feel comforted or soothed for a minute? Really?
Frustration: So during the time of my displacement, I was having to deal with the apartment manager and the restoration of my apartment, the start of a new school year, and a slightly different job. If you’ve ever been in any kind of situation where you feel increasingly powerless and unsuccessful at getting things done, you’ll understand this feeling. And while my constant 3 week haggling with the apartment management over things not being done, and my frustration with not having enough time to complete my work tasks was considerable to me, I think it would pale in the amount of frustration a person might feel dealing with paperwork and policies of assistance agencies that are grossly understaffed and underfunded. It was frustrating to me to have to drive 22 miles to get my mail each day, and then have a postal worker chew me out for not coming to pick up a package sent to me in what he thought was a timely fashion. It was frustrating to me to wake up at 3 in the morning one night and suddenly remember that my car insurance and license plates both need to be renewed right away that month, and mind you, I had full access to the internet, a computer and a credit card with good credit. But I was frustrated because in all the confusion, it had slipped my mind, and who knows if I hadn’t been dreaming about it if I would have remembered. Plus, I didn’t have access to or memory for passwords that I use but once a year, and so I had to create new usernames and passwords. These small things frustrated me. It frustrates me that I was actually wasting my dreams on something paying for my car plates and insurance. And I can’t imagine being actually homeless and not having access to resources and instead having to stand in a physical line for the things you need.
Emotional Instability: So, I was very frustrated with the management of my apartment, and I was completely exhausted. But I really had NO idea how very tired and upset I was until one day while I was displaced, a friend called and was asking me how things were going. And as I began to tell her of the recent events, I began to cry. I want you to know that I almost never cry. And it came as a complete surprise to me that I had started crying while I was talking to her. I seemed to have no floodgate whatsoever on my emotions just right then. And I’m a person who prides myself on having very strong, very shored-up floodgates these days. I don’t even know how a person without such friends to ask them how they were doing in the first place, and who have to live without privacy and must cry in public, holds in their emotions.
Anger: As part of the emotional lability I suffered, I have to say that I was at times irrationally angry at the wrong people for the wrong reasons. I was really angry with the apartment manager, true, but I had to keep my cool with her. So instead, my anger apparently needed somewhere to go, and since I wasn’t getting my usual daily exercise because I didn’t have access to my apartment’s fitness center as per usual, I found myself either almost snapping at stupid little things people said or did, and even one day really snapping, in anger towards someone at work for an innocent mistake they made. No, I didn’t throw a fit or anything, and I was barely mean to them, but I also didn’t exhibit my usual patience with this person. I told her to figure out the situation herself. I later apologized and explained why I was having a bad day, and I hope she understands that I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. I do think she does understand, but the point I’m trying to make is that anger easily came to the surface during my displacement. So, I’m thinking if you find a homeless person not exhibiting a sunny disposition when you walk by them, you might want to have some sympathy. Or at the very least, consider this person might be not only on edge, but on THE edge.
Inability to keep up personal appearance: Yeah, I’m not really a real girly-girl. I can and usually do take the quickest of showers and let my hair dry in the wind. I don’t like getting up in the morning ever, and the time it would take me to fuss excessively with my hair is better spent on precious seconds of sleep, in my opinion. I wear mascara, and a small amount of cover-up make-up daily that takes me about 30 seconds to put on. I trim my nails short, and I don’t usually wear nail polish. I wear minimal jewelry both because I don’t like a lot of jewelry on any person, let alone my person, and partly because I just don’t have a lot, by most girl standards. I dress simply. Either a dress and sandals in the summer or a t-shirt and slacks. That’s how I’m most comfortable. So, you wouldn’t think this would have been such a huge hassle for me during my displacement, but stupid things like not realizing I’d not packed more underwear, or being unable to locate my tweezers and my nail clipper or my deodorant, and having to get up a half-hour earlier each day in order to get to work on time got in my way. Plus brushing your teeth? Where the heck does a homeless person go to brush their teeth that isn’t totally disgusting? Now I can only imagine the hassle of not knowing where you can brush your teeth or shower, or even having enough underwear in the first place or anywhere to keep it in the second place would unhinge a person. I know now though, that it would unhinge me. I took these things for granted, and I’m willing to bet that you do too. But try to keep it in mind next time you recoil from a dirty, poorly dressed homeless person or think about them going to a job interview. It’s just not all that easy to keep up appearances when you don’t have a home.
Isolation: I mentioned before that I had/have very gracious friends. I also have a wonderful supportive family, although not in the same city with me. But even as sympathetic, empathetic, and genuinely helpful as they all were, I felt a real, searing isolation from people. I would imagine that if you’re actually homeless, you might seek out or just find other homeless people who know and understand how you feel. That’s if you’re lucky, I guess. But, on the other hand, maybe you’re not lucky to have your fellow homeless for associates. They may be in worse straits than you. They may be bad influences. They may be mentally ill. Please know that I’m not pegging them as bad people, but only saying that those who are homeless are probably not in a position to help you much. I am thinking you might feel completely alone in the world, and like no one really cares, really knows how to care, or really understands your situation. Mother Teresa is quoted as saying “Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty.” I can’t really think of a truer sentiment than that. And while my situation came about through no fault of my own, when you try to understand homelessness, you may also want to add in feelings of guilt to that feeling of loneliness. Some homeless may actually feel partially or all to blame for their state of being. Politicians certainly will try to make them feel that way if they don’t already. And so, add that guilt in and you get a double whammy of negativity and hopeless about your life and your circumstances.
As I said at the top, I in no way consider myself really able to understand the plight of a homeless person. But I will say that my displacement experience has certainly given me pause and cause to check some of my pre-conceived thoughts about the homeless community. I am hearing the lyrics of R.E.M.’s New Test Leper in my head right now as I’m typing. “Judge not lest ye be judged.” What a beautiful refrain….” “I am not an animal” subtitled under the screen.” “Call me a leper.” Yes, I’m being overly dramatic for my situation, but for a true homeless person, I don’t think I am. I’m not trying to be. I guess I’m just thinking something good should come out of my experience.
As a post script to these thoughts, I want to add that one day while I was still displaced and very upset, I was driving to my hometown to see my grandson in a baseball game, and I stopped at a Starbucks to get a cup of coffee. I was already late and was regretting my decision to get in the drive thru line because it was moving exceptionally slowly. But I had a headache from all the stress and I desperately wanted the caffeine to ease that and so I stuck with it, growing increasingly impatient and upset as the time ticked away. When I finally got to the window and stuck out my debit card to pay, the barista said, “oh, no charge, the couple in front of you, paid for your latte.” And I’m driving away, thinking that’s the nicest damn thing that’s happened to me in a month now and I’m very touched by their sweetness and pay-it-forwardness. Right up until I take a drink of my latte and it’s undrinkable. I have no idea what they did to it, but it was just awful and I couldn’t drink it. And I start to cry for how absurd the whole thing was. And then, I start to laugh- for the joy of it all. For how absurd life is. Life is absurd, it really is. So all I can say is this- when you have a chance and the energy to be kind- be kind. You never know when you’re not going to be in the position to be. And you never know what’s it’s going to mean to the crazy homeless person behind you in the red car.
What I’m here to tell you though, is that through my experience with all my relative comforts, resources, and advantages, I realize that I likely wouldn’t last a week in a true homeless state of being. ProjectHome.org has reported the following, “On a single night in January 2015, there were 564,708 people experiencing homelessness in the United States. Sixty-nine percent of those who were homeless were in sheltered locations and 31 percent were found in unsheltered locations (streets, abandoned buildings, cars, etc.).
Nearly one-quarter (23 percent or 127,787) of all homeless people were children, under the age of 18. Ten percent (or 52,973) were between the ages of 18 and 24, and 66 percent (or 383,948) were 25 years or older.” Let those statistics sink in. They make my spirits sink, especially now that I’ve had my displacement experience.
Now, first I want to tell you that my displacement was not at all or in any way my fault. That said, I don’t think it’s particularly helpful to any conversation about homelessness to assign blame to the homeless, and it’s silly to blame anyway, except in factoring in how much more difficult it will be to get out of the state due to certain circumstances. But regardless, it simply really doesn’t matter at all to this particular discussion why a person became homeless; I just want to share a little bit of what they may be feeling and the obstacles they face. This is my list of problems I faced being displaced that I think would be hundred fold for the actual homeless.
Confusion: As in “what day is it?” kind of confusion. “Is this the day I need my lesson plans or my data sheets with me?” “Where the heck is my deodorant, my car keys, my phone?” “Will I have time for lunch between job shifts today?” Where is the closest grocery store?” This kind of confusion constantly eats away at your energy level and your mental clarity. You don’t realize it would, but it does.
Fatigue: As in never really getting a good night’s sleep in a different place, fatigue. Day after day. As in waking up feeling like you never really went to sleep fatigue. As in, I wish I could just find somewhere to relax and close my eyes for 10 minutes this afternoon, fatigue. As in when I got a chance one day, I slept for 16 hours straight-fatigue.
Hunger: Ok, I never really experienced actual hunger, but I did have to spend much more money and energy on procuring meals. I couldn’t just run home at 2 and have my usual cottage cheese and tomatoes or my turkey sandwich. Where I was staying was 22 miles away from work and there wasn’t time to get there and back. And yes, I could have packed my lunch, and I eventually did after a few days when I got myself organized, but that did involve me having a kind friend with a refrigerator that I could put stuff in. But, even so, I certainly ate out a lot more than usual and at odd times as well. What I’m trying to say is that eating became pretty much a chore, rather than something I rarely think much about or when I do, I usually enjoy. So, a joy from my life, turned into a hassle would be the best way to describe this. And so when you think about criticizing the homeless for eating junk food or even for having a cigarette, for pete’s sake, think about this- do you really begrudge them something that makes them feel comforted or soothed for a minute? Really?
Frustration: So during the time of my displacement, I was having to deal with the apartment manager and the restoration of my apartment, the start of a new school year, and a slightly different job. If you’ve ever been in any kind of situation where you feel increasingly powerless and unsuccessful at getting things done, you’ll understand this feeling. And while my constant 3 week haggling with the apartment management over things not being done, and my frustration with not having enough time to complete my work tasks was considerable to me, I think it would pale in the amount of frustration a person might feel dealing with paperwork and policies of assistance agencies that are grossly understaffed and underfunded. It was frustrating to me to have to drive 22 miles to get my mail each day, and then have a postal worker chew me out for not coming to pick up a package sent to me in what he thought was a timely fashion. It was frustrating to me to wake up at 3 in the morning one night and suddenly remember that my car insurance and license plates both need to be renewed right away that month, and mind you, I had full access to the internet, a computer and a credit card with good credit. But I was frustrated because in all the confusion, it had slipped my mind, and who knows if I hadn’t been dreaming about it if I would have remembered. Plus, I didn’t have access to or memory for passwords that I use but once a year, and so I had to create new usernames and passwords. These small things frustrated me. It frustrates me that I was actually wasting my dreams on something paying for my car plates and insurance. And I can’t imagine being actually homeless and not having access to resources and instead having to stand in a physical line for the things you need.
Emotional Instability: So, I was very frustrated with the management of my apartment, and I was completely exhausted. But I really had NO idea how very tired and upset I was until one day while I was displaced, a friend called and was asking me how things were going. And as I began to tell her of the recent events, I began to cry. I want you to know that I almost never cry. And it came as a complete surprise to me that I had started crying while I was talking to her. I seemed to have no floodgate whatsoever on my emotions just right then. And I’m a person who prides myself on having very strong, very shored-up floodgates these days. I don’t even know how a person without such friends to ask them how they were doing in the first place, and who have to live without privacy and must cry in public, holds in their emotions.
Anger: As part of the emotional lability I suffered, I have to say that I was at times irrationally angry at the wrong people for the wrong reasons. I was really angry with the apartment manager, true, but I had to keep my cool with her. So instead, my anger apparently needed somewhere to go, and since I wasn’t getting my usual daily exercise because I didn’t have access to my apartment’s fitness center as per usual, I found myself either almost snapping at stupid little things people said or did, and even one day really snapping, in anger towards someone at work for an innocent mistake they made. No, I didn’t throw a fit or anything, and I was barely mean to them, but I also didn’t exhibit my usual patience with this person. I told her to figure out the situation herself. I later apologized and explained why I was having a bad day, and I hope she understands that I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. I do think she does understand, but the point I’m trying to make is that anger easily came to the surface during my displacement. So, I’m thinking if you find a homeless person not exhibiting a sunny disposition when you walk by them, you might want to have some sympathy. Or at the very least, consider this person might be not only on edge, but on THE edge.
Inability to keep up personal appearance: Yeah, I’m not really a real girly-girl. I can and usually do take the quickest of showers and let my hair dry in the wind. I don’t like getting up in the morning ever, and the time it would take me to fuss excessively with my hair is better spent on precious seconds of sleep, in my opinion. I wear mascara, and a small amount of cover-up make-up daily that takes me about 30 seconds to put on. I trim my nails short, and I don’t usually wear nail polish. I wear minimal jewelry both because I don’t like a lot of jewelry on any person, let alone my person, and partly because I just don’t have a lot, by most girl standards. I dress simply. Either a dress and sandals in the summer or a t-shirt and slacks. That’s how I’m most comfortable. So, you wouldn’t think this would have been such a huge hassle for me during my displacement, but stupid things like not realizing I’d not packed more underwear, or being unable to locate my tweezers and my nail clipper or my deodorant, and having to get up a half-hour earlier each day in order to get to work on time got in my way. Plus brushing your teeth? Where the heck does a homeless person go to brush their teeth that isn’t totally disgusting? Now I can only imagine the hassle of not knowing where you can brush your teeth or shower, or even having enough underwear in the first place or anywhere to keep it in the second place would unhinge a person. I know now though, that it would unhinge me. I took these things for granted, and I’m willing to bet that you do too. But try to keep it in mind next time you recoil from a dirty, poorly dressed homeless person or think about them going to a job interview. It’s just not all that easy to keep up appearances when you don’t have a home.
Isolation: I mentioned before that I had/have very gracious friends. I also have a wonderful supportive family, although not in the same city with me. But even as sympathetic, empathetic, and genuinely helpful as they all were, I felt a real, searing isolation from people. I would imagine that if you’re actually homeless, you might seek out or just find other homeless people who know and understand how you feel. That’s if you’re lucky, I guess. But, on the other hand, maybe you’re not lucky to have your fellow homeless for associates. They may be in worse straits than you. They may be bad influences. They may be mentally ill. Please know that I’m not pegging them as bad people, but only saying that those who are homeless are probably not in a position to help you much. I am thinking you might feel completely alone in the world, and like no one really cares, really knows how to care, or really understands your situation. Mother Teresa is quoted as saying “Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty.” I can’t really think of a truer sentiment than that. And while my situation came about through no fault of my own, when you try to understand homelessness, you may also want to add in feelings of guilt to that feeling of loneliness. Some homeless may actually feel partially or all to blame for their state of being. Politicians certainly will try to make them feel that way if they don’t already. And so, add that guilt in and you get a double whammy of negativity and hopeless about your life and your circumstances.
As I said at the top, I in no way consider myself really able to understand the plight of a homeless person. But I will say that my displacement experience has certainly given me pause and cause to check some of my pre-conceived thoughts about the homeless community. I am hearing the lyrics of R.E.M.’s New Test Leper in my head right now as I’m typing. “Judge not lest ye be judged.” What a beautiful refrain….” “I am not an animal” subtitled under the screen.” “Call me a leper.” Yes, I’m being overly dramatic for my situation, but for a true homeless person, I don’t think I am. I’m not trying to be. I guess I’m just thinking something good should come out of my experience.
As a post script to these thoughts, I want to add that one day while I was still displaced and very upset, I was driving to my hometown to see my grandson in a baseball game, and I stopped at a Starbucks to get a cup of coffee. I was already late and was regretting my decision to get in the drive thru line because it was moving exceptionally slowly. But I had a headache from all the stress and I desperately wanted the caffeine to ease that and so I stuck with it, growing increasingly impatient and upset as the time ticked away. When I finally got to the window and stuck out my debit card to pay, the barista said, “oh, no charge, the couple in front of you, paid for your latte.” And I’m driving away, thinking that’s the nicest damn thing that’s happened to me in a month now and I’m very touched by their sweetness and pay-it-forwardness. Right up until I take a drink of my latte and it’s undrinkable. I have no idea what they did to it, but it was just awful and I couldn’t drink it. And I start to cry for how absurd the whole thing was. And then, I start to laugh- for the joy of it all. For how absurd life is. Life is absurd, it really is. So all I can say is this- when you have a chance and the energy to be kind- be kind. You never know when you’re not going to be in the position to be. And you never know what’s it’s going to mean to the crazy homeless person behind you in the red car.
Thursday, July 7, 2016
Ruby Wednesday
my car, she is named Ruby. for reasons we have discussed before. and yes, much to my chagrin, she is red. but i still love her. for what she represents.
and even while she's a cheap little number, and i've neglected her woefully for all these years- she's never once let me down. she's really better than people. never a sputter or a klunk. starts every time in every kind of weather. never judges. never tells me i'm rotten or that i should be a better person. or to suck it up. or that i'm stupid. or childish. or being unreasonable.
she just carries me. where ever i need to be.
and so last night, after a long quiet drive home, i pulled into the lot just a shade after midnight, i locked her doors and went upstairs and went to bed, not planning to take her out again until thursday when i have to go to the downtown center. Ruby gets a lot of well-deserved rest here in Spring, Summer, and Fall, and even occasionally in Winter because I am able to ride my bike to work unless i'm working downtown. and so i'd planned for this morning too. to ride my trusty bike, Ruby's shade of grey companion.
except when i got up, it was raining. not raining. pouring. and so I decided to drive. which was a great plan right up until i put the key in the ignition. and nothing. absolutely nothing.
Ruby appeared to be dead. and there wasn't any time to mourn either. i needed to get to work. so i called a friend and she said she'd come and get me. then while i was standing in the rain under my umbrella waiting, my neighbor came out and offered to jump Ruby if i knew how to connect her cables. i explained i didn't have time to jump Ruby, even if i wouldn't have have had time to consult the internet to remember how to connect jumper cables. so she left me the cables and said that when i got home from work to deal with it all, if I didn't have someone else to jump the car that her husband/boyfriend (not sure which) would help me.
but as it happened, my friend who came and got me to take me to work had already called her husband and he was going to meet us for lunch and we'd go jump Ruby.
so that's what we did. and when he got her running, he said he'd follow me to the car place and then bring me home. which is what we did.
and i have left dear Ruby in the charge of the Firestone people who are checking the electrical system and if that's fine= installing a new battery, rotating the tires and changing the oil. and i'll have her back in time to drive downtown. all will be well. and Ruby even got a lot of admiration from the car people because they said it was kind of unheard of that you wouldn't have to replace a car battery in about 7 year's time. they said usually, you'll need to replace it after 3 or 4 years. what can i say? benign neglect seems to do wonders for a car, i guess.
and all is well. Ruby will live on, cooperating with my plan to keep her for 13 or so more years.
but can i say that it shook me up? that Ruby let me down? i felt like the proverbial rug had been pulled from under me. But, really, i do not blame her. after-all, she's carried me through quite a lot. over the last years. and truth be told, it was i who neglected her. i get that. admit that. but, still. it was shocking to me. to think my friend was gone there for a moment.
Our reunion tomorrow will be happy. Long may you run, Ruby. it'll be you and me again.
and even while she's a cheap little number, and i've neglected her woefully for all these years- she's never once let me down. she's really better than people. never a sputter or a klunk. starts every time in every kind of weather. never judges. never tells me i'm rotten or that i should be a better person. or to suck it up. or that i'm stupid. or childish. or being unreasonable.
she just carries me. where ever i need to be.
and so last night, after a long quiet drive home, i pulled into the lot just a shade after midnight, i locked her doors and went upstairs and went to bed, not planning to take her out again until thursday when i have to go to the downtown center. Ruby gets a lot of well-deserved rest here in Spring, Summer, and Fall, and even occasionally in Winter because I am able to ride my bike to work unless i'm working downtown. and so i'd planned for this morning too. to ride my trusty bike, Ruby's shade of grey companion.
except when i got up, it was raining. not raining. pouring. and so I decided to drive. which was a great plan right up until i put the key in the ignition. and nothing. absolutely nothing.
Ruby appeared to be dead. and there wasn't any time to mourn either. i needed to get to work. so i called a friend and she said she'd come and get me. then while i was standing in the rain under my umbrella waiting, my neighbor came out and offered to jump Ruby if i knew how to connect her cables. i explained i didn't have time to jump Ruby, even if i wouldn't have have had time to consult the internet to remember how to connect jumper cables. so she left me the cables and said that when i got home from work to deal with it all, if I didn't have someone else to jump the car that her husband/boyfriend (not sure which) would help me.
but as it happened, my friend who came and got me to take me to work had already called her husband and he was going to meet us for lunch and we'd go jump Ruby.
so that's what we did. and when he got her running, he said he'd follow me to the car place and then bring me home. which is what we did.
and i have left dear Ruby in the charge of the Firestone people who are checking the electrical system and if that's fine= installing a new battery, rotating the tires and changing the oil. and i'll have her back in time to drive downtown. all will be well. and Ruby even got a lot of admiration from the car people because they said it was kind of unheard of that you wouldn't have to replace a car battery in about 7 year's time. they said usually, you'll need to replace it after 3 or 4 years. what can i say? benign neglect seems to do wonders for a car, i guess.
and all is well. Ruby will live on, cooperating with my plan to keep her for 13 or so more years.
but can i say that it shook me up? that Ruby let me down? i felt like the proverbial rug had been pulled from under me. But, really, i do not blame her. after-all, she's carried me through quite a lot. over the last years. and truth be told, it was i who neglected her. i get that. admit that. but, still. it was shocking to me. to think my friend was gone there for a moment.
Our reunion tomorrow will be happy. Long may you run, Ruby. it'll be you and me again.
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
bad grandma
so we're on the airplane finally- after being told at first we were among the 14 people being held off the airplane because of heat index issues. they needed the plane to weigh less. but at the last minute, they figured something out and we were told to board. it was more than a little nerve-wracking to be told it's ok, when they'd just gotten done explaining how it was unsafe. but ok. the pilot himself even came out and said it was ok.
but it's always a turbulent climb out of the denver airport because of the airflow and wave action and you don't want to crash into the side of a mountain and all that. and it was a little tense. and my poor daughter in law who is as scared to fly as i used to be is almost in tears in the aisle seat. and my grandson is sitting with her by the window and holding her hand. i am in the seat across the aisle one row ahead. and i turn to try to make sure they are ok. i tell my daughter in law that i can see ahead to the flight attendant who is sitting in her little jumpseat looking positively bored that it's really ok, that it's all so normal that the flight attendant looks very bored. she nods her head, but i can tell she's barely hearing what i have to say. i understand. i used to be that afraid of flying as well. i got over it finally though, when i realized that i didn't care all that much whether i lived or died. that kind of feeling makes one quite calm actually.
but i will stop here and say that i was a bit nervous myself. for two reasons- one, although i don't care much if i die, i do care that my family lives. and that especially my grandson gets to live. the second reason being is that i am a person who likes things to be settled. and there is still something in my life that does not seem settled to me. and so i was kind of reflecting on if i were going to die, how exactly i would wish that situation to be settled. and i used to think that i'd want the chance to tell someone that i forgave them. BUT- oddly- in the moment of slight panic, i didn't feel that way at all. and what i thought was, if i could- i would tell that person that they were a complete and utter jerk to me. and that i would never forgive them and they could just live or die with that.
so much for me being a nice person, i guess. (-:
but back to my grandson. he's holding his mom's hand. she's too upset to even look at him. he looks at her and she doesn't look back, she's too scared. and he looks up at me and says, "Grandma?" and i THINK he says, "I don't know what to do." and i think he's asking that he doesn't know what to do to help his mother. So, i tell him, "you are doing a good job taking care of your Mom. It's ok." and then he says something else, that i don't really hear, so I repeat and say, "Just hold her hand. You are doing a good job."
so eventually, the climb is over and it's pretty clear sailing the rest of the way home. and we land safely. and i tell my grandson that i was so proud of him for taking care of his Mom, when she was scared. and he says, "but Grandma, I was scared too, that's what i was TRYING to tell you!"
and i feel horrible because here the kid was trying to tell me he was scared, but i was too deaf and stupid to understand. i just thought he wanted to know what to do for his mom. i told him i was sorry, that i had misunderstood what he was saying. and that he was very brave. because that's what being brave is- getting through what scares you.
but i still feel like a bad grandma. i mean really, if i didn't exactly hear what he was saying, instead of assuming, i should have at least said, "what?" and then i could have said, "we are just fine. i know it's scary, but really we will be fine. we'll get through this, this turbulence is normal and we'll take care of each other through it. just hang on." i could have said something more reassuring and calming to him. i mean really, that's what you need to do when someone is upset and worried.
and so we lived. to see another day. and i just hope that the next time he might look to me for calming reassurance, i do a way better job.
but it's always a turbulent climb out of the denver airport because of the airflow and wave action and you don't want to crash into the side of a mountain and all that. and it was a little tense. and my poor daughter in law who is as scared to fly as i used to be is almost in tears in the aisle seat. and my grandson is sitting with her by the window and holding her hand. i am in the seat across the aisle one row ahead. and i turn to try to make sure they are ok. i tell my daughter in law that i can see ahead to the flight attendant who is sitting in her little jumpseat looking positively bored that it's really ok, that it's all so normal that the flight attendant looks very bored. she nods her head, but i can tell she's barely hearing what i have to say. i understand. i used to be that afraid of flying as well. i got over it finally though, when i realized that i didn't care all that much whether i lived or died. that kind of feeling makes one quite calm actually.
but i will stop here and say that i was a bit nervous myself. for two reasons- one, although i don't care much if i die, i do care that my family lives. and that especially my grandson gets to live. the second reason being is that i am a person who likes things to be settled. and there is still something in my life that does not seem settled to me. and so i was kind of reflecting on if i were going to die, how exactly i would wish that situation to be settled. and i used to think that i'd want the chance to tell someone that i forgave them. BUT- oddly- in the moment of slight panic, i didn't feel that way at all. and what i thought was, if i could- i would tell that person that they were a complete and utter jerk to me. and that i would never forgive them and they could just live or die with that.
so much for me being a nice person, i guess. (-:
but back to my grandson. he's holding his mom's hand. she's too upset to even look at him. he looks at her and she doesn't look back, she's too scared. and he looks up at me and says, "Grandma?" and i THINK he says, "I don't know what to do." and i think he's asking that he doesn't know what to do to help his mother. So, i tell him, "you are doing a good job taking care of your Mom. It's ok." and then he says something else, that i don't really hear, so I repeat and say, "Just hold her hand. You are doing a good job."
so eventually, the climb is over and it's pretty clear sailing the rest of the way home. and we land safely. and i tell my grandson that i was so proud of him for taking care of his Mom, when she was scared. and he says, "but Grandma, I was scared too, that's what i was TRYING to tell you!"
and i feel horrible because here the kid was trying to tell me he was scared, but i was too deaf and stupid to understand. i just thought he wanted to know what to do for his mom. i told him i was sorry, that i had misunderstood what he was saying. and that he was very brave. because that's what being brave is- getting through what scares you.
but i still feel like a bad grandma. i mean really, if i didn't exactly hear what he was saying, instead of assuming, i should have at least said, "what?" and then i could have said, "we are just fine. i know it's scary, but really we will be fine. we'll get through this, this turbulence is normal and we'll take care of each other through it. just hang on." i could have said something more reassuring and calming to him. i mean really, that's what you need to do when someone is upset and worried.
and so we lived. to see another day. and i just hope that the next time he might look to me for calming reassurance, i do a way better job.
Thursday, May 19, 2016
scott-free
so i met the first scott when he was in the 2nd grade. i was helping run a summer class for students with learning disabilities. he was a student. he was rather chubby and hapless. but i'm not sure he was aware that he was. he just kind of bounced around.
i met the other scott through chatting. he just appeared one day. i sincerely with all my heart wish that he never had. still.
the first scott, i never saw or thought about again until he was a grown adult and i was an older grown up adult after having been dumped unceremoniously (no, not unceremoniously, i think the word i want here is- cruelly) by the 2nd scott. over a misunderstanding of sorts. life is unfair and mean like that, you know.
so at the time i remet the first scott, i was barely breathing. because of the 2nd scott. and the first scott annoyed the ever-loving hell out of me as an adult. i dreaded having to interact with him at work. he was loud. he was flamboyant, gayly so, although he wasn't gay. he was young and idealistic and opinionated at a time when i wanted to be part of the wallpaper. he never called me by my first name, always my first and last together.
"xxxxx xxxxxxx! what do you think about this? xxxxx xxxxxxx?" pausing only briefly before launching ahead and telling me what he thought i ought to think. or what he hoped i'd think. as i said, he annoyed me. he was irrepressibly annoying. about history, about politics, about pop culture. about stupid stupid apple products. he seemed to never shut up. but. on the other hand, he also treated me with such respect and almost awe, i guess for being someone he respected in life, that it was hard not to like him at the same time. i guess you could say i was conflicted. he was the kind of person who not only wanted to pull you and everyone else out of their shells, but also didn't even seem to notice that there were these hard scaly surfaces surrounding some people for a reason, at the time in my life when i least felt like coming out from under cover.
people get hurt when they are out there without cover, you know.
but what ya gonna do when someone persistently insists?
so first Scott was great friends with other friends who have become great friends of mine. to this day. and together, whether they knew it or know it or not, they restored me. they propped me up. they filled me full of thoughts that they would miss me if i went. and that while they might laugh at me, occasionally, they would never desert me. that i could never do anything or say anything so wrong, so stupid or so bad, that they would toss me out on my ear. if i needed someone to talk to, to vent to, to cry in my beer with, they were there. first scott. and the others. mostly they just made me start to learn to laugh again. and care again.
2nd scott, i thought. that he was my prince charming. i thought he'd dropped into my life to rescue me. from bad times gone by. and he played the part so very very well. right up until he didn't and he refused to understand or listen and called me vile. and then he skipped off and married a woman who is so perfect and vegan, she makes my skin crawl just thinking about her.
and what i'm trying to say is that it's been a long road back from barely breathing with a sucking chest wound to now. where i am happy to breathe. delighted to breathe. get up in the morning happy to be alive to breathe. i never thought i'd feel that way. again. especially while on my own. as it seems i'm fated to be.
and then on sunday, the breath got knocked right out of me. first scott was killed. while sailing through an intersection on his bike while he was out on a sunday morning ride. the driver of the car never saw him. nobody's fault. but he was just knocked out of existence.
i was out and came home to quite a many messages saying, "omg, xxxxx, did you hear about scott?" and i sucked for air thinking it was second scott until i realized that no friend of mine ever even mentions 2nd scott to me anymore or ever again. and i realized they must be talking about 1st scott. and it bothered me, bothers me that my brain still went to second scott. wth?
especially because now i realize that the loss of the 1st scott is more air-sucking than the death of the 2nd scott from this world will ever be. because he is already dead to me. and has been for quite some time. and largely because of the 1st scott and all our friends. and oh.
oh. oh. i will miss this guy. more than i ever realized that i might. it's just wrong. wrong. wrong.
he leaves behind an adorable fiance, a first grader and a middle-schooler. he leaves behind so many friends, of whom i was just one, who probably never told him (as i never did) or even knew how much they appreciated him. he leaves behind a score of students who learned to think because he was irrepressible in teaching them to think for themselves.
and i am sad. so, so, so sad. for this world to be scott-free.
i met the other scott through chatting. he just appeared one day. i sincerely with all my heart wish that he never had. still.
the first scott, i never saw or thought about again until he was a grown adult and i was an older grown up adult after having been dumped unceremoniously (no, not unceremoniously, i think the word i want here is- cruelly) by the 2nd scott. over a misunderstanding of sorts. life is unfair and mean like that, you know.
so at the time i remet the first scott, i was barely breathing. because of the 2nd scott. and the first scott annoyed the ever-loving hell out of me as an adult. i dreaded having to interact with him at work. he was loud. he was flamboyant, gayly so, although he wasn't gay. he was young and idealistic and opinionated at a time when i wanted to be part of the wallpaper. he never called me by my first name, always my first and last together.
"xxxxx xxxxxxx! what do you think about this? xxxxx xxxxxxx?" pausing only briefly before launching ahead and telling me what he thought i ought to think. or what he hoped i'd think. as i said, he annoyed me. he was irrepressibly annoying. about history, about politics, about pop culture. about stupid stupid apple products. he seemed to never shut up. but. on the other hand, he also treated me with such respect and almost awe, i guess for being someone he respected in life, that it was hard not to like him at the same time. i guess you could say i was conflicted. he was the kind of person who not only wanted to pull you and everyone else out of their shells, but also didn't even seem to notice that there were these hard scaly surfaces surrounding some people for a reason, at the time in my life when i least felt like coming out from under cover.
people get hurt when they are out there without cover, you know.
but what ya gonna do when someone persistently insists?
so first Scott was great friends with other friends who have become great friends of mine. to this day. and together, whether they knew it or know it or not, they restored me. they propped me up. they filled me full of thoughts that they would miss me if i went. and that while they might laugh at me, occasionally, they would never desert me. that i could never do anything or say anything so wrong, so stupid or so bad, that they would toss me out on my ear. if i needed someone to talk to, to vent to, to cry in my beer with, they were there. first scott. and the others. mostly they just made me start to learn to laugh again. and care again.
2nd scott, i thought. that he was my prince charming. i thought he'd dropped into my life to rescue me. from bad times gone by. and he played the part so very very well. right up until he didn't and he refused to understand or listen and called me vile. and then he skipped off and married a woman who is so perfect and vegan, she makes my skin crawl just thinking about her.
and what i'm trying to say is that it's been a long road back from barely breathing with a sucking chest wound to now. where i am happy to breathe. delighted to breathe. get up in the morning happy to be alive to breathe. i never thought i'd feel that way. again. especially while on my own. as it seems i'm fated to be.
and then on sunday, the breath got knocked right out of me. first scott was killed. while sailing through an intersection on his bike while he was out on a sunday morning ride. the driver of the car never saw him. nobody's fault. but he was just knocked out of existence.
i was out and came home to quite a many messages saying, "omg, xxxxx, did you hear about scott?" and i sucked for air thinking it was second scott until i realized that no friend of mine ever even mentions 2nd scott to me anymore or ever again. and i realized they must be talking about 1st scott. and it bothered me, bothers me that my brain still went to second scott. wth?
especially because now i realize that the loss of the 1st scott is more air-sucking than the death of the 2nd scott from this world will ever be. because he is already dead to me. and has been for quite some time. and largely because of the 1st scott and all our friends. and oh.
oh. oh. i will miss this guy. more than i ever realized that i might. it's just wrong. wrong. wrong.
he leaves behind an adorable fiance, a first grader and a middle-schooler. he leaves behind so many friends, of whom i was just one, who probably never told him (as i never did) or even knew how much they appreciated him. he leaves behind a score of students who learned to think because he was irrepressible in teaching them to think for themselves.
and i am sad. so, so, so sad. for this world to be scott-free.
Sunday, May 1, 2016
things i'll never do
so here is a list of things that i'm certain i'll never do. they say you should never say never. but all the same, i'm never gonna....
own or fire a gun.
skydive.
be a vegan.
be a vegetarian.
go to paris.
eat turtle soup.
work in a coal mine.
scuba dive
join a fundamentalist church. or really any church again, but i'm hotly against the fundies.
shoot heroin
eat a dog. although, for entirely different reasoning than for not eating turtle soup.
support the privatization of public education.
support donald trump, ted cruz, or john kasich.
run a marathon- for both of these reasons- one, because i can't, and two, i think they are a brutal abuse of a body and why?
subscribe to cable tv or own a dish.
own an amphibian or reptile ever again.
join a cult.
talk down to a child.
own an expensive car ever again. even if i win or am offered one.
spend more than 60 minutes with someone i don't like unless i have to for work.
believe that i'm nobody or that my opinions and feelings don't matter or aren't worth your consideration. ever again.
turn down a great meal, unless i'm not hungry or i don't like you.
go to a heavy metal concert. or a yanni concert.
not listen to someone who politely asks me to listen. doesn't mean i'll do what you want or agree with you, but i'll at least give you a fair listen. because if i don't, i'm really no better than people i don't like.
dress like i'm 35 or really even 40. sorry, if you're sporting short skirts, long hair, or 'show your cleavage' blouses at my age, i just find you look unseemly and i don't want to be like you. sorry.
eat an octopus. and not for either of the reasons that i won't eat a turtle or a dog.
believe in fairy tales again. not that i wouldn't like to, but i've just found that they never come true. so why bother?
not going to give someone a chance to explain and at least try to listen. because i know how damaging and hurtful and heartbreaking it is to be treated that way.
say i love you unless i really mean it. and i mean really mean it- unconditionally. because i know what it's like to have it said to me and it not be meant in the end.
climb a mountain. ok, i will climb small hills and partially up the side of a mountain, but only until i panic from the height and my heart starts pounding in my ears, and then i'll stop and go back down. you go on though. i'll be real proud of you.
ride in a submarine. i do not like being enclosed. and i especially would hate being enclosed in something submerged. i've only later in years come to peace with being encapsulated in airplanes, but i'm never going to get in a submarine.
swim the English channel or across any large, cold, piece of water.
live in the arctic. ok, maybe Denmark. i would live in Denmark. and so would you, if you'd ever been there.
live on a farm. unless i loved a farmer, of course. and then i wouldn't care where we lived.
walk away from a difficult situation, unless i'm leading myself or others to safety.
park in a handicapped zone. unless of course, i've become handicapped or am escorting a handicapped child who could not be dropped off at the door alone.
wear a bright yellow dress. although, i look ok in light yellow- bright yellow makes me look like i'm sick.
go to work when i'm ill. ever again.
eat green beans or watermelon. i just do not like them. at all. ok, maybe if i was starving. but only if.
own a car with a spoiler on the back. seriously, who drives these? dumbest things ever.
hunt. i will fish though.
join an army.
steal from someone.
cheat on my taxes.
ride on a huge ferris wheel again.
go to a cage fight.
drive a motorcycle. or even ride on one again.
turn my back on a child.
not stand up to a bully. ever again.
finish this list, it seems. but i will stop for now.
own or fire a gun.
skydive.
be a vegan.
be a vegetarian.
go to paris.
eat turtle soup.
work in a coal mine.
scuba dive
join a fundamentalist church. or really any church again, but i'm hotly against the fundies.
shoot heroin
eat a dog. although, for entirely different reasoning than for not eating turtle soup.
support the privatization of public education.
support donald trump, ted cruz, or john kasich.
run a marathon- for both of these reasons- one, because i can't, and two, i think they are a brutal abuse of a body and why?
subscribe to cable tv or own a dish.
own an amphibian or reptile ever again.
join a cult.
talk down to a child.
own an expensive car ever again. even if i win or am offered one.
spend more than 60 minutes with someone i don't like unless i have to for work.
believe that i'm nobody or that my opinions and feelings don't matter or aren't worth your consideration. ever again.
turn down a great meal, unless i'm not hungry or i don't like you.
go to a heavy metal concert. or a yanni concert.
not listen to someone who politely asks me to listen. doesn't mean i'll do what you want or agree with you, but i'll at least give you a fair listen. because if i don't, i'm really no better than people i don't like.
dress like i'm 35 or really even 40. sorry, if you're sporting short skirts, long hair, or 'show your cleavage' blouses at my age, i just find you look unseemly and i don't want to be like you. sorry.
eat an octopus. and not for either of the reasons that i won't eat a turtle or a dog.
believe in fairy tales again. not that i wouldn't like to, but i've just found that they never come true. so why bother?
not going to give someone a chance to explain and at least try to listen. because i know how damaging and hurtful and heartbreaking it is to be treated that way.
say i love you unless i really mean it. and i mean really mean it- unconditionally. because i know what it's like to have it said to me and it not be meant in the end.
climb a mountain. ok, i will climb small hills and partially up the side of a mountain, but only until i panic from the height and my heart starts pounding in my ears, and then i'll stop and go back down. you go on though. i'll be real proud of you.
ride in a submarine. i do not like being enclosed. and i especially would hate being enclosed in something submerged. i've only later in years come to peace with being encapsulated in airplanes, but i'm never going to get in a submarine.
swim the English channel or across any large, cold, piece of water.
live in the arctic. ok, maybe Denmark. i would live in Denmark. and so would you, if you'd ever been there.
live on a farm. unless i loved a farmer, of course. and then i wouldn't care where we lived.
walk away from a difficult situation, unless i'm leading myself or others to safety.
park in a handicapped zone. unless of course, i've become handicapped or am escorting a handicapped child who could not be dropped off at the door alone.
wear a bright yellow dress. although, i look ok in light yellow- bright yellow makes me look like i'm sick.
go to work when i'm ill. ever again.
eat green beans or watermelon. i just do not like them. at all. ok, maybe if i was starving. but only if.
own a car with a spoiler on the back. seriously, who drives these? dumbest things ever.
hunt. i will fish though.
join an army.
steal from someone.
cheat on my taxes.
ride on a huge ferris wheel again.
go to a cage fight.
drive a motorcycle. or even ride on one again.
turn my back on a child.
not stand up to a bully. ever again.
finish this list, it seems. but i will stop for now.
Thursday, April 21, 2016
sometimes it snows in april
so you know. i didn't realize i was such a huge prince fan. til i heard he died today. and as soon as i heard, i wanted to listen to every prince song i ever knew. and so i did. and this confuses me, because i might have thought i was more of a david bowie fan than a prince fan and i didn't have this burning desire to listen to any of his songs when he died.
but a little prince fest i had here. and i'm all sad. i suppose quite a lot of people are. appreciating the brilliance.
in other news- i just saw that a little plane crashed just north of me. it creeps me out when i hear little planes crash. even if i shouldn't care anymore. and a whole bunch of local gang members of a gang "cutely" named the "Gett Money Gang" were busted. and it makes me more than a little sad to hear that people who were clever enough to make up that moniker for themselves formed a gang and committed evil and violence and stuff. and yesterday, presidential candidate trump was here yakking his yak and meeting with our prehistoric godwithasmallgwannabe governor. and a state senate candidate, currently a representative, a tool, who is running against another tool in the primary for us senate was outed for using money he shouldn't have used for a family vacation. and even if this takes him down, which it likely won't, the other guy will be no better. and. and. and....
sometimes it snows in april. a sad song, i think you'd have to say.
"sometimes it snows in april
sometimes i feel so bad, so bad,
sometimes i wish that life was never ending,
but all good things, they say, never last.
All good things they say, never last
And love, it isn't love until it's past."
and i don't feel like being nice or even fair today. i'm feeling irritable and grouchy. and sad.
don't worry. i'll be fine by tomorrow. sleep, some time with friends and family coming up. some baseball. some alcohol. some more fighting the good fight with my public school allies. all that will patch me up and prop me back up, as it always does. and so far always has. but for the rest of tonight i'm just going to be sad.
"and love isn't love until it's past."
but a little prince fest i had here. and i'm all sad. i suppose quite a lot of people are. appreciating the brilliance.
in other news- i just saw that a little plane crashed just north of me. it creeps me out when i hear little planes crash. even if i shouldn't care anymore. and a whole bunch of local gang members of a gang "cutely" named the "Gett Money Gang" were busted. and it makes me more than a little sad to hear that people who were clever enough to make up that moniker for themselves formed a gang and committed evil and violence and stuff. and yesterday, presidential candidate trump was here yakking his yak and meeting with our prehistoric godwithasmallgwannabe governor. and a state senate candidate, currently a representative, a tool, who is running against another tool in the primary for us senate was outed for using money he shouldn't have used for a family vacation. and even if this takes him down, which it likely won't, the other guy will be no better. and. and. and....
sometimes it snows in april. a sad song, i think you'd have to say.
"sometimes it snows in april
sometimes i feel so bad, so bad,
sometimes i wish that life was never ending,
but all good things, they say, never last.
All good things they say, never last
And love, it isn't love until it's past."
and i don't feel like being nice or even fair today. i'm feeling irritable and grouchy. and sad.
don't worry. i'll be fine by tomorrow. sleep, some time with friends and family coming up. some baseball. some alcohol. some more fighting the good fight with my public school allies. all that will patch me up and prop me back up, as it always does. and so far always has. but for the rest of tonight i'm just going to be sad.
"and love isn't love until it's past."
Friday, March 18, 2016
my last trip to tulsa
"i've been working on this palm tree for 87 years."
i had a horrible time tonight. omg- i was hit on- beyond hit on, tonight. apparently, when i get out there, i'm quite something. everyone wants this. apparently. i am. not. trying to be be vane. but damn. i was apparently the best thing these people had ever seen. (-:
which makes me wonder where they've been. under rocks. or out on the town trying out their lines. their very lame lines. with limited success. or great success. who the hell knows?
and the person that appealed to me most. well, he was the one who seemed the most. uncomfortable. and had no line.
"there was an indian in the corner- trying on my my clothes."
so we hit it off. this misfit and i. you could of figured. that.
phone numbers were exchanged.
"the coroner was friendly, i liked him quite a lot. if i hadn't of been a women, i guess i'd never have been caught."
so here's the thing- i'm not at all sure about this. but you know. he had engineer eyes. you know. the bright shining ones. that speak of intelligence. and observation. and something that is back there. somewhere.
that made me question what exactly he was doing there. or here.
"i was chopping down a palm tree. a friend dropped by to ask. if i would feel less lonely if he helped me swing the axe?"
" i said, "no, it's not a case of being lonely we have here. i've been working on this palm tree for 87 years."
and well, i don't know about this. i really don't.
but it's the closest thing to "i'm interested in this." that i've felt in years. and years.
and years.
"she got down on my knees. said, "let's get on with this thing. well, i used to be a folk singer, keeping managers alive, when you saw me on a corner and told me i was jive."
"well, i woke up in the morning. with an arrow through my nose."
"well, i used to be asleep you know. with blankets on my bed. i stayed there for awhile, til they discovered i was dead....."
"they gave me back my house and car. and nothing more was said."
"i chopped down the palm tree. and it landed on his back..."
i had a horrible time tonight. omg- i was hit on- beyond hit on, tonight. apparently, when i get out there, i'm quite something. everyone wants this. apparently. i am. not. trying to be be vane. but damn. i was apparently the best thing these people had ever seen. (-:
which makes me wonder where they've been. under rocks. or out on the town trying out their lines. their very lame lines. with limited success. or great success. who the hell knows?
and the person that appealed to me most. well, he was the one who seemed the most. uncomfortable. and had no line.
"there was an indian in the corner- trying on my my clothes."
so we hit it off. this misfit and i. you could of figured. that.
phone numbers were exchanged.
"the coroner was friendly, i liked him quite a lot. if i hadn't of been a women, i guess i'd never have been caught."
so here's the thing- i'm not at all sure about this. but you know. he had engineer eyes. you know. the bright shining ones. that speak of intelligence. and observation. and something that is back there. somewhere.
that made me question what exactly he was doing there. or here.
"i was chopping down a palm tree. a friend dropped by to ask. if i would feel less lonely if he helped me swing the axe?"
" i said, "no, it's not a case of being lonely we have here. i've been working on this palm tree for 87 years."
and well, i don't know about this. i really don't.
but it's the closest thing to "i'm interested in this." that i've felt in years. and years.
and years.
"she got down on my knees. said, "let's get on with this thing. well, i used to be a folk singer, keeping managers alive, when you saw me on a corner and told me i was jive."
"well, i woke up in the morning. with an arrow through my nose."
"well, i used to be asleep you know. with blankets on my bed. i stayed there for awhile, til they discovered i was dead....."
"they gave me back my house and car. and nothing more was said."
"i chopped down the palm tree. and it landed on his back..."
Sunday, February 14, 2016
the shape of my heart
it's pretty snowy out. it's valentine's day and i have no valentine. and i've done nothing but what i please all day. and it's not been not nice. not thrilling, but within the frame of things- quite nice.
i had a nice facetime call from my grandson. and he asked me to show him the view out my window when i told him there was snow. the view through my phone camera looked pretty beautiful. perhaps even more beautiful than it was. it looked pretty through the frame.
so last night a friend gave me and another friend free tickets to a show with the city's philharmonic. and he gave us each a candy. apparently, he thought we'd be feeling alone on this saturday night. sorta sweet.
and it was nice. and also nice was my friend telling me that from here on out in her life, she was going to try to be more like me. ha. yeah. i know. what? but apparently she admires my calm in life. and that i seem fairly happy even though i don't have much.
and it's true. i don't have much. but i have all i really need.
and conversely..
i told her that earlier in the week that some other friends were asking me what i'd given up for lent. and i said, i haven't given up anything for lent. i can't give up anything for lent. i need everything i have. i take anything out. and it upsets the delicate balance.
and i think that's the secret. keeping the balance. keeping inside the frame.
when i was a little kid, i was sort of fascinated by the symmetry used in cutting out a construction paper heart. and i was also fascinated with the fact that after you cut your heart out, the scraps also formed a heart. you had the outline of a heart. and a heartshaped hole that you could look at the things of your life through.
and that's kinda how i feel about Valentine's day. i can look through the cutout and see the things in my life that i love. and visually ignore what's outside the borders.
and that's the balance and frame i need for being happy. and the shape of my heart.
i had a nice facetime call from my grandson. and he asked me to show him the view out my window when i told him there was snow. the view through my phone camera looked pretty beautiful. perhaps even more beautiful than it was. it looked pretty through the frame.
so last night a friend gave me and another friend free tickets to a show with the city's philharmonic. and he gave us each a candy. apparently, he thought we'd be feeling alone on this saturday night. sorta sweet.
and it was nice. and also nice was my friend telling me that from here on out in her life, she was going to try to be more like me. ha. yeah. i know. what? but apparently she admires my calm in life. and that i seem fairly happy even though i don't have much.
and it's true. i don't have much. but i have all i really need.
and conversely..
i told her that earlier in the week that some other friends were asking me what i'd given up for lent. and i said, i haven't given up anything for lent. i can't give up anything for lent. i need everything i have. i take anything out. and it upsets the delicate balance.
and i think that's the secret. keeping the balance. keeping inside the frame.
when i was a little kid, i was sort of fascinated by the symmetry used in cutting out a construction paper heart. and i was also fascinated with the fact that after you cut your heart out, the scraps also formed a heart. you had the outline of a heart. and a heartshaped hole that you could look at the things of your life through.
and that's kinda how i feel about Valentine's day. i can look through the cutout and see the things in my life that i love. and visually ignore what's outside the borders.
and that's the balance and frame i need for being happy. and the shape of my heart.
Saturday, February 6, 2016
moonshadows
so while i was waiting for someone's plane to get in this morning, i was listening to part of a tedtalk on happiness. and you know how i feel about tedtalks. but there i was. waiting for the plane. with nothing to do. so i was listening to this. and the first thing the guy said was that people a year after winning the lottery and people a year after becoming paralyzed rate themselves as being about the same amount of happy.
so then the guy went on to explain that our ability to not get hung up on bad stuff and move on was because of our big old humany frontal lobes. and he said you pretty much get over anything at all after about three months. because. your frontal lobe. apparently, it has the ability to look ahead. to the future and stuff. which helps you get over stuff. hmmm
well, and maybe that's so for most people. but me, i must have the tiniest frontal lobe in the world. or perhaps i have frontal lobe damage. perhaps i have trouble seeing the future.
so then the plane landed and i didn't get to hear the rest of the tedyak. and i'm wondering now if he ever explained why lottery winners weren't happier than people who can't walk. and i also wonder if he ever talked about people who were paraplegics and who had also won a lottery. how happy were they?
i guess i could go look it up to listen to the rest of it. not right now though.
"And if I ever lose my eyes
If my colors all run dry
Yes, if I ever lose my eyes
Ooh, I won't have to cry no more"
so then the guy went on to explain that our ability to not get hung up on bad stuff and move on was because of our big old humany frontal lobes. and he said you pretty much get over anything at all after about three months. because. your frontal lobe. apparently, it has the ability to look ahead. to the future and stuff. which helps you get over stuff. hmmm
well, and maybe that's so for most people. but me, i must have the tiniest frontal lobe in the world. or perhaps i have frontal lobe damage. perhaps i have trouble seeing the future.
so then the plane landed and i didn't get to hear the rest of the tedyak. and i'm wondering now if he ever explained why lottery winners weren't happier than people who can't walk. and i also wonder if he ever talked about people who were paraplegics and who had also won a lottery. how happy were they?
i guess i could go look it up to listen to the rest of it. not right now though.
"And if I ever lose my eyes
If my colors all run dry
Yes, if I ever lose my eyes
Ooh, I won't have to cry no more"
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
la la la. la la. la la
so i have been enjoying vinyl. for years, i haven't listened to very much music. well, because music makes you feel. and to feel is, of course, bad. (ok, ok. ok. it's not bad. but for quite a while, it has just been better for me to keep feelings tamped down. where they could be kept under control. because for a while there- they got quite out of control. and trust me, that is NEVER gonna happen again.)
ANYwho--- i've been enjoying vinyl. because my son and daughter in law bought me this little record player. it's one of those retro things. that looks like a little suitcase when it's closed. they are in all the stores these days. mine is turquoise. and really, it's quite cute. I even bought a little retro table to set it up on. with wrought iron legs.
and i have a grand total of 5 albums here to listen to. one i bought, two my daughter and her husband gave me, one i bought with a gift card my son and family gave me, and one my son dredged out of storage, where i'm hoping that i can rescue some more.
and one of the great joys is picking up the arm and placing the needle down right at the song that i want to hear. it's a much more satisfying tactile thing than punching a button on a cd player. or clicking on a computer link. you feel like you've actually done something. something skillful, when you do it just right. like threading a sewing needle. or sticking a landing off a balance beam.
not that i can stick a landing off a balance beam anymore. i'm not even sure that i can still hoist myself up on a beam anymore. let alone balance on it and perform tricks. old age, it brings you down, i guess.
but i can still artfully and accurately place a needle down right at the beginning of a song. and i like that i can do that. that i have the steady eye and hand for that. it makes me feel in control of my life for a very brief moment.
so there is a an album that has been playing in my head for days now. that i want to pick up next time i'm in the record store. which is another delightful thing about vinyl that i'd forgotten about- spending hours browsing through album covers to select something new to take home. there's some kind of time warp thing that happens when you do that. like being in the library browsing through the stacks. and then suddenly, you're late for your dentist appointment.
so this album that i've been craving is Crazy Horse. Everybody Knows This is Nowhere. and of course, i want to hear Cinnamon Girl. because that is one great song.
but mostly right now i want to hear the title track. i just want to sing along with it- the la la la part.
and it's not that the lyrics mean a damn thing to me. i have absolutely no wish to go home again. there is no one i'd like to go back and get to know. or anything like that. i just want to sing along with it. everybody, everybody, knows this is nowhere. la la la. la la la la.
and yeah, i could pull it up on youtube. but it just would not could not be the same. as setting that needle down just at the right place to hear that guitar intro and old Neil's funky voice chiming in. and then mine. on the la las.
so actually, awhile back i read a book written by Neil Young. and in it he talked about that he specifically puts certain songs in certain order on his records. and actually, i get that. but just the same, i will order the songs how i please. it will be everybody knows first, cinnamon girl second and then after that, who knows. except that i probably won't ever put the needle down on the losing end. because well, you know. i have to be in control.
everybody, everybody knows. la la la. la la. la la
ANYwho--- i've been enjoying vinyl. because my son and daughter in law bought me this little record player. it's one of those retro things. that looks like a little suitcase when it's closed. they are in all the stores these days. mine is turquoise. and really, it's quite cute. I even bought a little retro table to set it up on. with wrought iron legs.
and i have a grand total of 5 albums here to listen to. one i bought, two my daughter and her husband gave me, one i bought with a gift card my son and family gave me, and one my son dredged out of storage, where i'm hoping that i can rescue some more.
and one of the great joys is picking up the arm and placing the needle down right at the song that i want to hear. it's a much more satisfying tactile thing than punching a button on a cd player. or clicking on a computer link. you feel like you've actually done something. something skillful, when you do it just right. like threading a sewing needle. or sticking a landing off a balance beam.
not that i can stick a landing off a balance beam anymore. i'm not even sure that i can still hoist myself up on a beam anymore. let alone balance on it and perform tricks. old age, it brings you down, i guess.
but i can still artfully and accurately place a needle down right at the beginning of a song. and i like that i can do that. that i have the steady eye and hand for that. it makes me feel in control of my life for a very brief moment.
so there is a an album that has been playing in my head for days now. that i want to pick up next time i'm in the record store. which is another delightful thing about vinyl that i'd forgotten about- spending hours browsing through album covers to select something new to take home. there's some kind of time warp thing that happens when you do that. like being in the library browsing through the stacks. and then suddenly, you're late for your dentist appointment.
so this album that i've been craving is Crazy Horse. Everybody Knows This is Nowhere. and of course, i want to hear Cinnamon Girl. because that is one great song.
but mostly right now i want to hear the title track. i just want to sing along with it- the la la la part.
and it's not that the lyrics mean a damn thing to me. i have absolutely no wish to go home again. there is no one i'd like to go back and get to know. or anything like that. i just want to sing along with it. everybody, everybody, knows this is nowhere. la la la. la la la la.
and yeah, i could pull it up on youtube. but it just would not could not be the same. as setting that needle down just at the right place to hear that guitar intro and old Neil's funky voice chiming in. and then mine. on the la las.
so actually, awhile back i read a book written by Neil Young. and in it he talked about that he specifically puts certain songs in certain order on his records. and actually, i get that. but just the same, i will order the songs how i please. it will be everybody knows first, cinnamon girl second and then after that, who knows. except that i probably won't ever put the needle down on the losing end. because well, you know. i have to be in control.
everybody, everybody knows. la la la. la la. la la
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