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Or just a mind that thinks too much. |
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A place to practice my writing. Also where I will put my random thoughts, ideas, rants, and whatever else I have to say. ** Image ID #1901871 Unavailable ** ** Image ID #1779494 Unavailable ** |
| I made it out of the house yesterday in one primped up piece. Last nights comedy show got me thinking. Yes I was laughing too. In fact I was laughing so hard I think I might have embarrassed the group of friends I was with. The variety of comedians commanded the stage which was constructed of two tables pushed together and brought forth an onslaught of laughter. I love to laugh, but I found myself picking apart each of the comedians routines. By the end of the night I mentally compiled a collection of the best jokes and put together in my opinion, a perfect routine. By perfect I mean a collection of jokes that received the most laughter. I was tempted to write them down but stopped myself because I was already drawing too much attention with my loud and uncontrolled outbursts of laughter. I do the same thing when I watch movies. I pick them apart from start to finish and most of the time figure out the movie way before it ends. The formula is usually the same. Most mainstream movies nowadays are regurgitated and predictable. They lack mental stimulation and spell everything out for the audience before or after or during all the impossible action scenes. So I figured if I compiled the best jokes of the night and one of the comedians performed them, it would be the perfect set. There will be constant laughter ending with a standing ovation and a long line of folks ready to spend their hard earned cash on the CD sold in the corner booth next to the DJ. The comedians talked about the same thing in their own way. Sex, drugs, race, and personal experiences. Each joke had a different reaction from the crowd. A few laughs here and there, some ooh I can't believe you went that far laughs and some laugh till your stomach hurt outbursts. Every person reacted to the jokes the way they perceived them. One of the comedians touched on politics and the reactions were plainly divided. On my table, I called it the poker table, there was a three way split. republican, democrat, and I don't care about politics group. After the show, when the music came on and the people crowded the dance floor, my group gravitated to the next room and settled down at the bar. The political discussion began and lasted until last call. I am not an expert on politics but I have been following the republican debates so I kept up and even threw out a few topic starters. A couple of the comedians overheard us and joined in. I felt like I was on Politically Incorrect with Bill Maher. I caught some shit from my republican friends when I asked them why they would agree with a political party that has no intention of helping working class citizens like themselves who are struggling to make ends meet. I was sent to the side of the bar with the group who didn't care about politics. I think that choosing sides is pointless. There will be no end to what is right or wrong when it comes to topics like this. If you look at things from an outsiders point of view, you would see a bunch of people who are full of themselves squabbling over money and power. That got me thinking of my perfect comedy formula. Apply it to politics. If you take the best qualities of both parties and combine them into one, and I'm talking about the qualities that help everyone collectively, you might actually have something. Think about it. |
| For a woman, getting ready for a special occasion is kind of like a ritual, a ceremony. It can be a long one or a short one, depending on the notice and how much time is allowed for preparations. I don't speak for all women, I am not qualified to do that. I am however, qualified to speak for myself and the lovely women I know. I am going to talk about myself for two reasons. Reason number one: this is my blog and I can do that. Reason number two: to compare the difference between my sisters primping ritual and mine. Why you ask? I don't have a good answer for that but there is a science to it. I've been thinking and talking about science all day. Mr. Percy Goodfellow has provided me with interesting notions on the science of writing. This back and forth we had going, made me think of how there is a science to a woman preparing to go out. Let me back track to this morning after I purchased tickets for a local comedy show in my area. After signing off my computer and performing a tiny celebratory dance, I compiled a mental list of things to be done around the house. Whats for dinner, how much time it will take me to complete, what outfit I will wear, who will watch the kids, how my hair and makeup will be done, and what accessories will go with my outfit. This is all on the assumption that my husband will be wearing what I lay out for him. If he doesn't, I have a couple backup outfits stored for emergencies. Some of you women know what I'm talking about. It's all about preparation and time management. This is another issue. Time. I don't have much of it, so if I want to look my best in the shortest amount of time, I have to plan way ahead, like six hours ahead. So I start my day, taking care of household duties, feeding my son, and preparing all the ingredients for dinner so I can throw them together and make a meal later. Then it's dishes, feed the dog and fish, lay out my clothes, make the beds, blah blah boring stuff. Then jump online real quick to respond to some emails before I hop in the shower. Hair and makeup time. Make up has to wait, because an unexpected visitor comes. I have to stop blow drying my hair and settle for air dry instead and hope it's a perfect wave kind of day. An hour later the visitor leaves and I give up on my hair, it's a perfect friz kind of day and I plan to fix it later. My husband comes home and decides he is going to put up the bunk beds we bought for the kids today and guess who has to help him. OH JOY! Two hours later I'm bitching because I'm sweaty and late picking up my daughter from school, but glad I didn't get to the makeup part yet. Next is another shower and start dinner. It's going to be an early dinner tonight. Get the kids overnight bags packed, just in case, and check on my husband who is still building the bunk beds. By this time I am contemplating on staying home because I know I will be rushing in the end and I won't look like the woman I imagined in my head this morning. I remind myself that I already purchased the tickets and to NOT call my friends and offer them a night out on me. A fellow poet and blogger, Mia, reminded me that a little play is good for the writing soul. I need to play. So I leave for this night of laughter and hopefully a few libations in two and a half hours. My husband is almost finished with the beds and the kids bellies are full. All I have to do is clean up the pile of sawdust, screws and spare parts (OH NO!) and hope I can pull off a kick ass look. Now for the comparison. My sister. A single independent working woman. How she prepares for the same night out. Comes home from work, showers, dries her hair, sets it in curlers, dresses and eats at the same time, lets her hair out, curls it again with hot iron, pins it up in a cute way, and spends the next few hours doing her makeup and nails. Tonight when we meet up, she will look like a million bucks and I will look like a stressed out million bucks. I hope they have good wine, or whiskey... whatever.  |
Working on some of my older pieces in my portfolio. I think I might scrap them and write new stuff. I'm in one of my moods again. I hate editing my stuff. I get too emotionally attached and I never want to change anything. After hours of brooding, I finally changed something. The font.  I am hopeless.  |
| I have nothing in particular to say today. I am coming down from a sugar high because of all the candy I've eaten from my kids Halloween bags. I am worse than they are. Halloween was fun this year. My trip to the dentist won't be. (corny joke. Lol) |
I finished my first New Horizons course this semester.  Yes I passed with an A. I am very proud I stuck with it. I worked hard, and pushed through all my insecurities. They didn't disappear, I think they are hiding at the moment. I am sure they will pop up when I am writing something I think is good. They love to sneak up when I am in the zone and remind me that I am not that good of a writer. "That's ok. I already know that." I tell them. (I don't consider this talking to myself. Just thinking out loud.) Please leave now if you think this is going to get better. It isn't. I read somewhere that writers struggle with this all the time. That this insecurity is faced by the best authors. I am working on eliminating this out of my life. I haven't read a book on how to do this. Well there is one book, but it was so boring I couldn't finish it. See what I mean. This is why I am happy I finished the course. I have so many unfinished things that I have accumulated over the years. I blame it on my mother. Growing up was a constant struggle to get anything accomplished. My mother is a paranoid maniac. She was and still is; but not as much now, scared of the world. That really sucked for me when I joined the volleyball team and had an away game, or school field trips, or anything resulting in my leaving home and experiencing the world. Living with such a person was hell. I got through it. I found ways to live my life and keep her fear and way over the top outbursts at bay. I was not always successful, those are the worst memories. If I tell you some of the things I had to do, you would probably think I am a terrible person and never write to me again. So lets just say I did what I had to do to ensure I am a productive part of society. I graduated high school, attended college while working my entire life. Everything else is a big huge pile of interesting, fun, crazy, and shitty things in which I will write about. So if you have made it this far and think "She should give it up. Throw in the towel or pencil or laptop, get off this site and never return.", Please read my poetry. It is much better than my rambling nonsensical blogging. I worked hard in Karen's class and I think they are good for a beginners attempt at a foreign art form. They are a tiny window into my mind. When I figure out how to open the door, I'll let you know. I |
It has been a busy couple of days, so let me apologize for not continuing my previous entry. Not that I think anyone reads this so, I guess I'm apologizing to myself. On with the show er story. We were a half hour late to the party. Fashionably late in my eyes, and my husband was pissed. He hates to be late. It was my fault. I made him stop at the liquor store and then the card shop for a gift bag. I figured that when we walked in wearing our costumes, a bottle of tequila would smooth things over. Lucky for us Lady Gaga walked in a few minutes before so our host’s anger focused on him instead. Lucky for me she loved the tequila. Turns out that her family did too, because the kitchen was stocked with it. The place was nice. It was a small square hall perfect for parties and in my estimation, seated about a hundred people. On one side against the wall, there was a buffet table and on the opposite corner, a DJ and his assistant. The food was great and I heard the tequila was good. I was the designated driver for this event. My husband and I take turns. The last party, I went a little crazy and convinced everyone I was a fortuneteller. I don’t really remember too much of that night, but I do know how to read palms, so I probably did do something like that. Lady gaga kept me on the dance floor most of the night along with my very intoxicated hostess. She thanked me for coming a thousand times and hugged me every chance she could. I tried to sit her down so she could sober up, but a song would come on that she loved and was back on the dance floor. I danced with the devil, Elvis, The Wicked Witch of the West, The Scarecrow, Cat woman, a prostitute, a porn star, a genie, and a cop. I danced once with the cop; I couldn’t stand anymore than that. He was complimenting me on my French maid costume all night. The more he drank, the more he drooled. He had the cheesiest lines too. I don’t know how he gets girls but hitting on a married woman usually does not work. Oh and he kept calling me Ooh La Lana. LAME. I am rolling my eyes as you read this sentence. My husband was the talk of the party; his costume was cool and creative. He made it in a last minute “ooh I got a great idea for a costume” kind of way. He was a “99 percenter” That was the name he gave himself. He wore a shirt that said Occupy Halloween that he airbrushed on and wore a V for Vendetta mask. He made a poster too. His poster said: “99% of the Candy will be Eaten by 1% of the Parents. He talked politics all night, which means he was in heaven. For the first Halloween party of the year, the bar is set pretty high. I wonder what the others will be like. |
| Today is the first Halloween party of the year for my family. This time we have been invited to a costume/birthday party for one my daughters friends. The little girls mother was adamant about everyone dressing up and went as far as sending reminders throughout the week, the last one sent yesterday evening. So with that constant reminder I guess I must. Normally I'm all for fun stuff like dressing up and trick or treating and all the other activities that comes with Halloween, but something inside me wants to stir up some trouble. I have this urge to completely defy this woman's request. I don't know why I want to do this. I like her, we talk everyday when we pick up and drop off our kids. She is a bit of a control freak and is obsessive compulsive about most things, but we have pleasant conversations. I think maybe its all the rules that come with the party. Or maybe the way she demanded we dress accordingly. I think my behavior stems from the brief conversations I overheard between the woman and the other invited guests. It went something like this: "I don't dress up. My kid will though." "No you will too." "OK, I guess I have to go shopping then." "You have 24 hours to find something." "Ha ha, yeah." Then they would walk away with downcast eyes and drooping shoulders. When I told my husband about what I witnessed and that I wanted to go normal, he dug up our old costumes. Before I could protest he explained, breaking her dress code rules would be more fun. I talked to a few of the other guests and they had the same idea. One of them is going as Lady Gaga. This should be fun. |
| Family is a big issue for me. It always has been. Every person I talk to has issues with their family members. Maybe I should have been a phsyciatrist. Yesterday this woman I barely know decided to pour her heart out to me about her childhood. She decided or came to the realization that she was an abused child. I heard many stories of instances she remembers as traumatizing events. Then she went on to tell me how she raised her own child differently. I listened until she finished and started to walk away. She stopped me and asked me to share my childhood experiences but I politely declined. I did not have a perfect childhood and I do not know anyone who has. My philosophy is simple. Let the past stay in the past. Learn what you can from it. Take the positive and embrace it. Don't dwell on the negative. My family is far from perfect. I think they're nuts. They have and continue to make mistakes and blame everyone else for it. That's who they are. I don't think they could change if they tried. I love them all, well most of them, and I try to keep a healthy distance from them. DwellIng on my history with them is pointless. That lady said I was holding in alot of anger and pent up aggression and that I should talk about it. Jeez! I don't even know her. I've learned to forgive and forget. It that simple. |
| I was wrong to think I wouldn't have anymore problems taking my son to preschool. Please disregard the previous entry. |
| It is very strange how the mind of a child works. The past few weeks, my son has had a hard time going to preschool. His teacher would literally peel him off of me and take him to class. When I would pick him up, she would report that he cried the first half and played for the second. For the rest of the day he would tell me he wasn't returning and he wanted to stay with me. He talked about this almost every second he was awake. I hated to see him stressed and unhappy. I almost gave in. Then Karen my poetry teacher on this site gave me some advice. She told me to take him to school and tell him he had no choice and he was going no matter what. This is not a direct quote. Her words were more profound and dripping with experience. Sickness overtook my son, and I was forced to wait a couple of weeks before I put her sage advice to work. The day finally arrived and we were standing in front of the dreaded white double doors. I bent down and looked him in the eye and told him he was going in and I would be there when he got out. Then I stood up and ushered him through the threshold. He began to cry and I hesitated before I turned around and walked away. The main point is that I walked away. I worried for the next couple of hours. I know I'm weak. I have no excuse. But I was hopeful. I'm getting to the point, I promise. The time came to pick him up and the double doors opened up. The teachers head popped out and called me over. For the first time she had a smile on her face and a good report. My son ran to me, wrapped himself around my leg, and told me that he had made a friend. He said that he wanted to go to school everyday and hang out with this boy. He then brought me to him and introduced us. They hugged and that was that. I haven't had any trouble since then. Funny how their little minds work huh? |
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