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 |  This was my first blog, maybe my best blog...nah! The journey continues with another..!
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Check out this signature's match at Thomas  's blog** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "You want to become aware of your thoughts and choose them carefully. You are the Michelangelo of your own life; the 'David' you are sculpting is YOU!" Dr. Joe Vitale
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| I forgot how much fun research is for me- I'll bet some who read those words will not understand my insanity  But I love it. I've always been one who enjoys learning--I was one of those obnoxious students who had to raise a hand and either show off knowledge or ask questions to attain it. And embarrassingly, I'm still that sort of student  I do try to temper it these days so I won't annoy my fellow classmates, but it's hard!For awhile I took a paralegal course through Sanford-Brown College in St Louis and it was super fun for me, especially the class where we were required to do extensive research and write briefs about what we discovered. The attorney who taught the class brought in old case files and we were allowed to visit the law library of Washington University in St Louis...I can still remember walking into that building and the intake of breath I would automatically take to absorb the musty scent along with so much history, experience, tragedy...it fascinated my writer's brain. And nothing equates, in my opinion, the jubilation of discovery! I went crazy writing my briefs for that class, going above and beyond what the teacher expected of us...yeah, I tend to do that when I get super excited about a subject. (boy am I a geek!) The teacher adored them, though, and actually told me to seek her out when I graduated from the paralegal course! She gave me her card, her home phone number, even asked me if I'd considered law school for myself. Um, yeah! When I was first in college umpteen years ago I had my eye on law school--I was a speech/political science major--but pretty early on I figured out that I was too idealistic and too easily bored for the barrister profession. Contrary to television's version of the attorney's job, it can be 99% tedious paperwork. Very few who complete law school actually become litigators, even, the ones who argue cases in court. Most of the time an attorney's job is done behind a desk, at a computer.  SO not me!!But strangely, I do love the research of it...I think it is because of my fascination with the stories surrounding what I'm researching, my love of a good mystery, and my enjoyment of being the one to discover what no one else has, yet. I love knowldedge, too, which is why I tend to be pretty good at trivial pursuit, ha ha. I store up useless information to pull it out at any time...my kids get irritated when they watch tv with me...I'll point out a certain actor, tell them who he's related to and other sundry facts. They'll turn around and stare at me until I stop. Hey, just trying to inform, here! I'm researching for a story I'm writing, a historical one for this contest:
I'll share the story here, probably tomorrow. I'm such a geek! And yeah, I'm bragging about that  PS...check out the pic of Rachael I placed above...it's one of my favorites because it's very HER; I'll show a new picture every month, of family and moments...stay tuned! |
| I can't sleep. I've tried but my brain keeps churning, so I've decided to record my thoughts-- -Liz needs residential treatment but I can't find her any. It was nice that she got stable for awhile, but she's slipping and I know she won't be able to function in the "real world" until we get her some serious help. I have no idea where to turn or what to do to get her what she desperately needs. She knows that she needs residential treatment, doesn't even balk when I bring it up. The girl needs to start from scratch and re-learn how to BE. I feel like walking down the street with her in Oliver type fashion, singing melodically..."who will help...this young woman who suffers? Who will take...her in for some treatment? Who will seek...to save her with me? (think of that song Who Will Buy) If I thought it would work I'd do it. -Rachael is feeling stressed about leaving home. I understand, but I'm having to get things in order FOR her and this is not kosher for me. The girl needs to get busy! I wanted her to be responsible for some of the paperwork, etc, that it takes to get situated into the school by fall...not happening. I applied her for dorm space this afternoon without her input because trying to get her input it like pulling teeth. Sigh. I know she wants to go away and she'll do great once she's there, but geez! -Sarah's world is turning upside down and inside out. Middle school age is tough for ANY young girl, not the best time for all these changes. I can only hope she comes out the other side stronger. -My mom is older, not able to work anymore, and my aunt hasn't been able to work for years. They have my mom's social security, that's it. I need to help them in so many ways. -The "dad" neglecting the kids; I'm more than a little sure I've lost a friend who used to be valuable to me  ; my laptop is dead without a proper buriel; and so much much much more to fix...Okay...right after I solve World Hunger and the Ozone problem I have no idea why I can't sleep. |
| When I was young I believed the best of everyone I met, and for the most part I still do. But the naive view I had of people is gone. I'm not sure how or why it left: life experience, disappointments, others letting me down in various ways...I could speculate forever and probably not reach some single moment when my vision altered, because it's probably a bit of everything I've seen, read, experienced, learned. Gradually the optimistic colors that covered my eyes lifted. Sometimes I want those "rose colored glasses" back. I want to believe that everyone on this earth has the capacity for good...but I can't turn back time and the glasses don't fit me anymore. Anyone who's spent some time in my story port has noticed that I do tend to write about the dark underbelly of human nature more often than not. Those who know me to look at me might be surprised and even a little appalled by who I really am and what I really see when I close my eyes. Most of us who write deal with "what ifs", and even though I like to write about this more stark vision of "the human condition," I do too. I sometimes write about the other side--the inner workings of someone with APD and what motivates them. I like to explore what exactly makes them become who they are. I've always been fascinated by the psychology of humanity; I find myself becoming more fascinated with time. I could easily identify with Special Kay 's husband, which is why I switched my basis of study from English to psychology. Not only do I understand these individuals on a level that is indeed chilling, but I want to take them apart almost, find out exactly what it is that makes them tick. I think some would consider my fascination morbid. At the same time though, I don't like human suffereing and I am NOT fascinated by it. I itch to do something pro active to stop it if I can, when I can, how I can. Kåre Enga in Montana  is right that we can't always avoid contact and interaction with APD sufferers, but we CAN be informed and wary. Don't trust without reason. That's life lesson number one when it comes to human relations. It's a sad lesson, but a valuable one. You don't have to be rude, you don't have to be mean, but you DO have to be aware.This subject reminds me of last week's Chicago sojurn I enjoyed with my girls. We took a city bus from State Street in Downtown Chicago to the Navy Pier-Chicago has a fantastic public transit system, and who needs the headache of driving all over the place? A couple of blocks before we reached our destination, the bus emptied of college students because most of them were traveling to the movie theater that stands outside of the Pier. We were left with a handful of passengers, one an older man who suddenly scooted forward in his seat opposite us and started rhapsodizing about the beauty of my girls  He asked if I was their mother, then continued on and on about how they should be in movies, they are so gorgeous, yada yada. My radar sounded like a foghorn in my head. I smiled tightly, nodded slightly, then turned a bit in my own seat to face away from the man. It was obvious that my youngest, Sarah, had no idea how to react, and then I realized it; her education in this area was lacking. The older two spent their younger years in St Louis and we'd have a few encounters similar to this one. They learned how to behave and when to allow instinct to dictate behavior. After such a troubling incident, I counseled Sarah about reacting but not too much. It's a tightrope walk of not wanting to incite possible retaliation either through positive OR negative reactions. It's about allowing adrenaline to flood your system just in case fight or flight is necessary. It's about taking off the rose colored glasses and listening to your inner core that exists for survival purposes. I'm not without hope or belief in the basic goodness of most. But I also know that there are narcissists in our midst, concerned only for and about themselves and their own wants. Don't be afraid. Be aware. |
| The definition according to wikipedia: Antisocial personality disorder (APD) is a personality disorder which is often characterised by antisocial and impulsive behaviour. APD is generally (if controversially) considered to be the same as, or similar to, the disorder that was previously known as psychopathic or sociopathic personality disorder. Approximately 3% of men and 1% of women have some form of antisocial personality disorder (source: DSM-IV). Clear as mud, right? The only significant information in the previous "definition" has to do with the estimated number of individuals thought to possess some sort of APD. I'm writing about this issue for a second time because I suspect that there are too many who STILL don't get it: I'm not writing about people who think in absolutes, I'm not writing about people who just don't "think right," and I'm NOT writing about the sort of person who has the capacity for normal human interaction...there are truly, really people in this world who are without the ability to feel for others, to think that others have rights similar to them, or that anyone even exists out of their own sphere. Think of your pet--I know it's a sad analogy but it's REAL--your pet has no capacity to understand that you exist away from him because his only reality is in his head; BINGO! That is the world of a sociopath, or someone with Antisocial Personality Disorder. They are completely unable to see anything other than what's in their heads. Period. I found an interesting website by a therapist named Sandra L Brown concerning female victims of those with APD: Day after day in my counseling practice, I would hear stories just like this…”He swept me off my feet -- he was so charming -- he acted like everything I was looking for. He felt safe — at least in the beginning. But the relationship changed—and pretty soon he was lying, cheating, hitting me, making everything my fault.. He was always sorry and I stuck around thinking he would change and he wouldn’t—it almost seemed like he couldn’t be any different for some reason….Then I had to stay because I had burned my bridges with my family and friends because I kept staying with him or going back to him and they didn’t want to hear it any more about the domestic violence, or the lying, cheating, drinking---or whatever it was he was doing—I had no where to go. I stayed to figure him out too—I thought if I could just understand what made him do the acts of domestic violence (and other behaviors too!) then I could help him, or meet his need, or do something that would make him be happier or better. It was a cycle of hoping, then getting frustrated because he wouldn’t do what he said he would, then hoping again. I lost myself and self esteem in this process. I need to understand why this happened.” Problem is, too many women think they have to "stick it out" or that they've "made their bed," so to speak. NO!!! Just because you make a bad decision once doesn't mean you have to pay for it the rest of your life, EVEN if there are children involved...in fact, ESPECIALLY if there are children involved. Brown goes on to quote one of these sociopaths: “I know how to pick the women. I have a built in radar that can hone in on who is ripe for the taking. These women need to wake up – guys like me can look like ANYONE she wants us to be…until we’re in. Then the rules are ours! Let me tell you a few of the ways I get in….” My personal experience and radar would define it like this: if he seems too good to be true...HE IS. The website: http://www.howtospotadangerousman.com If one woman who reads this figures it out, then this entry was worth it. |
| I warn you, I am going to vent big-time, so if the first few sentences offend, you are welcome to quit reading: WHAT THE HELL is wrong with women, today??? WHY do they get involved with married men, stay married to men who blatently play around, and then BLAME EACH OTHER for the man's misbehavior???? WHY do they continue to think that "LOVE" will change an obviously morally bankrupt individual when it has nothing to DO with "love" at all. GET THIS: There are people, men AND women, in this world who are flawed, period. They will take advantage of whoever they can whenever they are allowed to do so, and their basically narcissistic personalities have nothing whatsoever to do with the people they victimize and everything to do with simply WHO THEY ARE. You cannot change these people, you cannot "save" these people, you cannot be the bright shining light that will magically force them to understand the basics of human kindness. They don't have it and they'll never GET it...not from YOU, not from ANYONE. Seriously, it's about narcissism and the inability of these types to "get" the feelings or rights of others. To them, others are simply there to enhance or complicate THEIR lives. Some call them sociopaths, and guess what? You cannot create a soul where none exists. I target women in this advice because it is a simple fact of life that women tend to be nurturers. As a rule, men will take so much abuse and then put a halt to it. Conversely, too many women think they can "fix" what's broken; they can't, I will not be able to stress that enough. If you discover that you have become involved with someone like this, run as far and as fast as you can. YOU CANNOT FIX THEM. YOU CANNOT CHANGE THEM. YOU CANNOT EVER BE "ENOUGH" FOR THEM, because there is no such thing. If you get in the way of a sociopath's convenient life, you will be eliminated however you have to be. That's just how it is. I don't know how Jessie Davis' little boy was spared. Perhaps he looked enough like his father that the narcissism kicked in and he was merely left alone for God knows how many hours. Yeah, the guy is "innocent until proven guilty." I'm no court of law, and here we go again with a Scott Peterson-type scenerio. C'MON, girls. No more sociopaths taking the lives of women and their children. No more trying to "fix" the unfixable or "save" the unsavable. Save yourselves. |
I am very tired. I'm afraid I am not witty or ready for conscious thought.  We've had roof fun for three days now, starting before seven am and not ending until early afternoon. I never realized what constant pounding, running, throwing, cursing, and more running on the roof can do to the psyche. Everyone who lives here is cranky when they have the energy, simply trance-like when the energy is gone. Tomorrow they will be here again...geez, I used to think squirrels and dropping acorns from the tree above our roof was annoying. Now it will be music to my assaulted, abused ears. And my head. I can hear the pounding in my head all the time now. Pound pound pound. We went to Chicago on Monday, stayed through Tuesday, and generally had a great time there. We visited Roosevelt Universiity, Rachael's future stomping grounds, walked around the Magnificant Mile that is North Michigan Avenue, enjoyed Millinium and Grant Parks in the heart of Downtown Chicago, and had a great time at the Navy Pier...there's nothing quite like looking at Chicago from the top of that ferris wheel at dusk...one of my most amazing visions will remain that one...on one side we were able to watch Chicago's skyline come to life; on the other we could still see sailboats dotting Lake Michigan...and how breathtaking to look towards the horizon of the lake! I do love Chicago  I just wish we'd been there at the right time...during the pounding on the damn roof  |
| I read a book a few days ago, and then last night I read another book. Why is this bit of "news" worthy of mention in a readable blog entry?? Because both of these books added up to disappointing reads. I've read these authors before--both books are continuations of series I began to read umpteen years ago. I can remember the first time I read the beginnings; I was interested, hooked, liked the main characters and was eager to continue "knowing" them. Now, many stories into these continuing sagas, the magic has palled. That makes me sad It seems to happen with these series. I think the authors are probably held by contracts, once their books prove to be successful and so-called bestsellers, to crank out one or more stories a year, and I can tell when it fades, when writing new situations and scenerios for these same characters becomes too mundane, too much of the same. I think of it as a situation similar to actors on Broadway who are held to the same role with the same lines every single night, six nights a week for nine months to a year, sometimes longer. How "fresh" can their portrayal remain? In the same vein, how "fresh" can a cast of charachters continue to be when it's all an author writes? Most of these authors are under the gun of time limits; they simply don't have time to write anything else. Or they DO undertake new projects, slap out these continuing series in less time than it takes to watch bread rise, and viola, we are expected to snatch said book off the shelves simply because we enjoyed the first few tales...! I wonder if other readers "see" it the way I do. Sometimes I'll keep reading the series long past my boredom meter sounds the alarm because I want to keep hoping for the same "magic" I experienced the first few times, but it's never happened. Once a writer sacrifices real stories and plots out of either boredom or time constraints, it's over. Last night I was thoroughly annoyed to read a book that offered up black and white visions of characters-nothing bugs me more than someone being written as "all good" or "all bad," because it just doesn't happen in the real world-and a really tepid plotline. This particular book series began with its protagonist as a harried widowed mother with a full plate of responsibilities and an imperfect way of dealing with it all. She solved mysteries while she muddled through her growing kids' demands and needs, which of course isn't exactly realistic , but I saw myself in her and delighted in the fact that she was as flawed as me...and like me, she kept plugging along, anyway. Good stuff! Now the author has almost all of her three children grown and it's not the same character, even. I don't mind changes, because I'm all for characters that are true-to-life, but suddenly this woman has become rich, a published author with almost no work involved in the process, and very efficient! And to top it all off, the book was BORING. Bummer. I came away from reading that book thinking of the author as downright lazy. I've read much much better stuff right here, on wdc.Only one author I read on a regular basis seems to have a handle on continuing to write her stories around one protagonist, and that would be Sue Grafton. I have yet to pick up one of her Alphabet Series books about Private Eye Kinsey Millhone and come away from it disappointed. Not yet anyway, and fingers crossed! Kinsey's world does change as she ages, but Grafton, in my opinion, does it right. She remains true to the basis of who Kinsey is and keeps on telling gripping stories to boot. She should give seminars for her peers. Now, speaking of wdc's pool of great authors, the results of my "Show Me Your Mysteries" contest are in! Not a bit surprisingly, two of the top three winners come from Blogville  It stands to reason that popular bloggers who write great entries daily would be pretty darn good at churning out a dang good yarn!! If you want a really good read, take a gander at these very worthy stories:First Place:
Second Place
Third Place
I hope you enjoy THESE stories as much as I did  OOPS, this is a PS to my entry because I must give credit where it's due: I can't believe I forgot Jonothan Kellerman and his wife Faye They write series that continue to be read-worthy for me...in fact, I just read Jonothan's latest, Obssession, last week, and it did NOT disappoint. NOW I'm done! |
| Ah, Father's Day. It's nevery meant all that much to me, not really even in terms of feeling loss from my lack of anyone to say that phrase to..."happy Father's Day." My mother's father, whom we called "Papo," died when I was eight years old and in the second grade and I felt his loss for many years, but even with him I don't really remember Father's Day. I guess we probably gave him cards, maybe took him out to eat, but my mind's a blank. I know for a few years, when I was very small, that my mother had my brother and I call my father, but by the time I was twelve we didn't even know where he was. All the "father's day" specials on television and father's day cards, blah blah niggled just a little bit, but not a lot. It's different with my own kids. I'm so sad at the thought of them having a difficult day without their own father, and probably because they've actually lived with him and spent every other Father's Day with him. No matter what else I feel or think, he's their father. Period. I had to call and call and call before I finally got in touch with him, and then I had to pour on the guilt before he finally came to get his kids and let them spend the day with him. This sucks because I've always had to do it, even when he lived here. I always have to be the voice of "what you should do" for him. When it comes to the kids, that will never change. They will be grown adults and I'll call him to remind him about birthdays and Christmas...I will do this for my kids. A Mother's work is never done. Sheesh.  |
| My middle daughter created myspace for the pets one day when I'm hoping she was bored but it's amusing to discover how many people actually DO that! Tonight I am lazy and not really in the mood to write, but in the interest of sharing some tidbits about the humor of my crazy daughter Rachael and the lives of our pets, I'm going to share their myspace links. If you choose to visit these links, don't hesitate to read the blogs Rachael has written from their accounts to her...the girl has talent for reading the minds of animals http://www.myspace.com/buddy_dogface http://www.myspace.com/pumpkin_catface Seriously, if you want to chuckle a little, here's your chance. |
| I came up with an idea last night, partly because of a contest I noticed in the "contest listings" page. A WDCer has a contest in which a poem and a story are to intermingle, and I was hit with a brainstorm! I'm not the most prolific poet it's true, but I'm constantly inspired by them. Kåre Enga in Montana 's poems have figured into more than one story, most especially the last one I wrote called Aging Gracefully It features a train that was given life from Kera's train poem. My wonderful friend Thomas is also a poet with serious talent, and so I thought...why not begin with a poem of his and create a story from it? A few years ago the Midwest Writing Center, located in Davenport, Iowa, sponsored an intriguing exercise wherein an artist would paint a picture, a poet would write a poem from that picture, and then another picture was painted by a different artist using only the previously written poem. In the end there were ten pictures and ten poems, all incredibly different! So from these events in my mind, I decided to create my own exercise using one of Tom's poems as my only prompt. I chose a relatively new one I had already read and enjoyed immensely...this particular poem captured my imagination from the first time he showed it to me; it demonstrates Tom's love for words and his skill at fitting them together to create some incredible word art. If you haven't been able to tell, Tom and Kera Enga are both word lovers and two of my favorite poets EVER! So here is what I came up with as I searched between the lines of Tom's poem. As a stinkin' short story writer I don't get to create the beauty that is poetry, but I hope the "moral of the story" resonates for those who choose to read:
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| I took a "happiness" test last night. Did I need one of those silly tests to tell me I'm not happy right now? No. But I guess I felt the need for some sort of therapy, and through a "silly internet test," I got it. Turns out I'm not as bad off as I thought. I'm actually happier, the test said, than 24 percent of the people who'd taken if before--how sad for them! The test also measured things like degrees of optimism, confidence, etc. I did know I'm a pretty confident person, I don't hate myself, and I don't base my self worth on the opinions of others. So I'm good there. For optimism I ranked pretty high, too. I usually am able to see the "light at the end of the tunnel" and put a positive spin on the more challenging aspects of life. So where was I lacking? Most specifically--in fact the singular issue according to this little test--is with contentment. I didn't have to take a test to discover I'm not content with where I am in life. I've written about it, pondered ways to change it, and generally I've made myself sick with the subject. But still I am not content, and I wish I knew how I could be. The "words of wisdom" following the test were interesting. The suggestion was to begin a sentence with I wish I... and actually finish that sentence, no matter how petty or small the conclusion of it seemed to be. Okay. I wish I could spend more time writing. I wish I was more fit and healthy. I wish I was more self sufficient. I wish I could find a job that would pay me and interest me at the same time. I wish I could provide my kids with everything they need. I wish I could help my mother and aunt more... Geez. No wonder I'm not content The rest of the test's advice sound suspiciously like Scarlett's: Put a smile on your face. Face every day with a determination to find the good, minimize the bad, and work to feel better...pretty soon you WILL feel better. It DOES work. I know because I've done it. At the same time though, I think I'll tackle those "wishes" one at a time, fell them like giant blocks in my life's maze, and then soon I won't have to play the "wish" game or REMEMBER to put a smile on my face. It'll just be there. |
| Summer has not started out quietly or even excitingly. It has started stressfully. My mother has been ill, was put into the hospital on the day Rachael was in the throes of her graduation party at our house. It was supposed to take place at a park, but weather dictated its move into the house. Pulling hair out at the memory. I'm so glad my friend came from DesMoines and was a part of it; she spent the night and left Friday afternoon. That was when I was the recipient of the Headache From Hell. It struck with blinding force Friday evening and was around for the rest of the night and into Saturday. I thought I was going to die, at several intervals I sort of wanted to! But thankfully the headache finally dissipated, at least for now. I've always had migraine headaches so they're nothing new, but I've also never felt the kind of stress I do at this point in my life. The financial burden of Rachael moving to college is enormous, my mother's hospitalization, Liz wanting to go as well, yada yada. Stress!!! I'll get through it all, hopefully without my brain exploding. |
| I'm more than a mother. Sometimes I get restless. I'm glad I like to read. I am able to travel anywhere I choose at anytime I choose. I can pick up a book and be single, child-free, and alone with no one but myself to answer for. BLISS. I can be a man, a woman, a child, a teenager, a criminal, a cop...the possibilities are endless. Thank God for my local library. I think it keeps me sane. Sometimes I want to be more than what I am. At those times I do visit the stories of others, but those times also inspire me to write my own tales, forge my own paths of lives I "see" in my mind and live vicariously. I escape mopping and dusting through the pounding of my fingers on a keyboard...I open up worlds I've not yet physically seen but mentally...I can describe them down to the tiniest blade of grass. I see the worlds about which I write so vividly...I wonder. If I were less mired in the drudgery of the "every day," would I write the way I do? Thoughts to ponder. |
| What a weekend. It was tiring but Rachael had a great time and that's what matters. She atteneded "Project Graduation," the after-party sponsored by the school district and held at the YMCA. It starts at 10pm on the n ight after graduation (which was Friday), and lasts until 5am. It is, of course, designed to keep the recently-graduated off the streets and away from chemicals designed to alter reality. I think it works, and the kids have a great time...why? Because area businesses and parents work together to appeal to their baser instincts...greed! Everyone who attends recieves at least a 40 dollar prize, and usually more than that. Rachael came home with a microwave (these prizes are designed to aid in their transition to college life), a gift certificate for a taco restaurant in the area...and she won the BIG ONE, the raffle that most in Moline ask about the next day...SHE WON THE CAR. Yes, you read correctly. Rachael won a car at "Project Graduation." When she walked in the door at 5am, her eyes big as silver dollars and hissing, "mom, mom! I won the car!" I asked her five times if she was joking! She finally stomped her small foot and uttered, "mom! I'm not joking!" My sister-in-law who was sleeping on an air bed in the living room was not really awake, and she groggily asked, "is she drunk?"  We've decided that every time something positive happens for her, we're going to ask her if she's drunk. Ha ha. She's the child who wouldn't. She often talks about what drugs and alcohol do to the brain cells and she LIKES her brain cells!The car is used and a Ford tempo, but it looks nice and it drives. She, of course, is thrilled and, for right now, uses any excuse she can to run an errand! We went to the dealership for it Saturday afternoon. As previously stated, the car giveaway is a Moline tradition and the buzz afterwards is quite loud. Sunday night she had Baccelaurate and our church and so many people came up to her and asked or commented about the car. Hilarious, that network of tongues! Rachael will use the car to drive to and from Chicago; hopefully we can find a place to park it during the time she's there, because public transportation in that city is great and the desired way to travel. Her name will soon be displayed on the sign at Moline High School, and her name will be used in a car commercial for the dealership. She's famous in Moline Now the big work starts, getting her ready for college. Liz is still talking about wanting to attend Columbia and she's actually starting to make her own plans. I've offered to help her apply. I've already had to talk to her, however, about whether she really wants this or not. She's extremely demanding, materially, and has a hard time living in the "real world." I told her that sometimes she has to exchange what she WANTS for what she NEEDS. We'll she if she actually follows through on all this. I figured out that her reaction to Rachael's graduation-so unbelievably positive-has everything to do with WHERE Rachael is going to college. Roosevelt University is intermingled with Columbia, they even share dorm space. I believe the knowledge that she won't be completely alone has jump started her. As much as she's rebellious, loud, and has that larger-than-life personality, her inner core is scared of so much. Rachael's presence in Chicago blocks from where she would be...that shores her up. So I'm not completely buying into Liz doing this, but I'm not letting her know that. I hope it happens, but I won't react negitavely if it doesn't. With a bipolar kid, you have to roll with the punches FOR REAL. So much to do for Rachael. If Liz goes, double that. I can get through this * twitching* After all, we're LUCKY! |
| Busy day, Graduation DAY!!! But a quick note to mention that it's also my friend Thomas 's BIRTHDAY Send him a quick "happy birthday" e-mail if you know him even slightly, or even if you only know him through my blog entries He'd love it (and thinks no one on wdc will know or care about his birthday--we'll show him  ) *whispering* don't tell him I told you he's middle aged like ME now!Too many family members are swarming into my house very soon. I will maintain my smile for Rachael's sake. Really I will! *wondering if there's time for a quick alcohol run* And a really cool by-product of Rachael's graduation day and college talk is that it's actually getting LIZ thinking about the whole "college" thing...oh WOW, progress in baby steps, baby steps...she has been talking about how cool it would be to major in drama at another college in Chicago, different from the one Rachael is going to attend. Columbia College, the one Liz had planned on attending before all the bipolar stuff took serious hold of her, is an artsy freestyle college with classes that are unconventional and geared towards unconventional PEOPLE. This could be good. What a great day...and I will NOT blubber at my baby's graduation! Well, at least it'll be HAPPY blubber AND by the way, check out my new blog header made by terryjroo Is it awesome or WHAT!!! |
| My daughter graduates from high school tomorrow. One kid eighteen, one kid nineteen. Sheesh. Okay, if I admit it-and I don't mind doing that-I'm probably officially middle aged. If I live to, say, 82, then there ya go. Middle aged is ME! Yesterday I felt a pang of envy for my beautiful middle daughter with her future yawning so invitingly before her. I have plans to help her achieve her goals--I never had that when I was her age. My own mother, when I was eighteen, was going through that "change-of-life" milestone and with it came a debilitating depression. Through no fault of her own, she was in no position to help me achieve anything. I can't say that factored into any of the turns I made in my life's road; maybe it did and maybe it didn't, who can say? But then Martina McBride's song lyricsFrom This One's For the Girls come floating back to me and I can't help a smile. This is for all you girls about 42, throwing pennies into the fountain of youth: every laugh line on your face---made you who you are today. I mostly like who I am, so okay. I'll embrace those lines, the gray hairs, and the wisdom I've acquired with age. But I STILL wish I had the ENERGY of youth! That's what I miss so much--the energy. Remember when we could go all day and STILL dance all night and make it to class by 8am? If I tried to do that today I'd fall flat on my face halfway through the DAY But being middle-aged has its perks. I know when to "not sweat the small stuff" for the most part. I know myself way better than I did twenty years ago and I make my choices accordingly. I have ceased to care so much about what others think of what I do or who I am. There's freedom that comes with age--freedom to enjoy myself without apology...I love Maroon 5's new cd and I REALLY like watching the lead singer in the new video--he knows how to move if you get my drift--and I do not care what anyone thinks of my enjoyment! I also love some sappy romantic movies that don't teach me a darn thing...I would never have admitted that "back in the day," you know. I was a double major in speech and political science, need I say more. I'm so excited for Rachael and I can't wait to see where her life takes her--but I can't wait to see where my life takes ME, either--right here from today as a middle aged woman of "wisdom". I'll bet in another twenty years I'll laugh at myself for thinking I was wise at 41. |
| Patience. That word is the bane of my existance, because it is what I spectacularly lack. When I mentioned stagnation in my last entry, I was referring to stagnation in every aspect of my life. I think my blog entries reflect my life and my moods pretty accurately, almost like a barometer of my world...so when I stagnate in my blog, I stagnate in my life. That has been the main issue with which I wrestle. I guess you could say my blog is almost a stream-of-conciousness sort of writing, of course with punctuation and other grammar tools involved I like it that way because I can refer back to entries from two years ago and realize that I'm--well, stagnate!!!I hold nothing back when I blog. It is my therapy, my writing exercise, the mirror of my being. What I see looking back at me right now is what I'm not satisfied with. I'm not much further along than when I first began to write in this little blog o' mine, and that thoroughly annoys the CRAP out of me. I like to use my kids as an excuse, my life circumstances as an excuse, but in reality it's just procrastination and impatience. How does the last come into it? WELL. Because I'm not patient, if something doesn't happen in the "here and now" I get discouraged and decide it's NEVER going to happen. That's a silly way to be, especially since I'm a "mature adult" who should know better. It's a personality issue that I struggle with every second that I'm awake. And I'm going to grit my teeth, dig in, and allow myself to be PATIENT for a change. My kids will not always need my constant attention--in fact, they don't really need it now, but their schedules and mine must still mesh and in this way my life is not yet my own...but gradually it will be. PATIENCE. Submitting writing is a slooowww process because most publications take a significant amount of time before they accept or reject something. PATIENCE. I am returning to school and will eventually recieve the college degree I'm wishing I had right now. PATIENCE. Patience is a virtue. Discouraged? NOT ME. Now if I write that enough in my "mirror" it will be true. |
| ...give a good reason for my neglect of this blog...sure there were some internet connection issues last week, sundry activities to occupy my time with the senior and the middle schooler as our school year draws to a close, but a really big reason for my lack of entries has been--not depression, but feeling of stagnation. I have simply felt like there is nothing new for me to impart. I've written 336 entries before this one--how much more do I have in my befuddled head to share?! Ironically I think of entry topics throughout my day, and darn good ones too, but just like Ŧĥē Beŋ wrote in his own entry a few weeks ago, by the time I get to an actual computer screen the idea has gone *poof*, and more often than not what ends up as an entry is some sort of seat-of-the-pants type of writing that strikes me while I stare at the white square I should do more writing in that little notebook I promised myself I'd use months ago, and I DO use it...ahem, for grocery lists, to-do lists like "laundry, clean kitchen counters, take dog on walk"... That's not what I bought it for. It was supposed to hold fabulous writing ideas that my brain would allow to leak out my ears. But the leakage continues and sometimes I don't even care enough to clean the kitchen counters. SIGH.I'm just stagnate and I wish I wasn't. There I go using the "wish" word again *rolling eyes at myself* My horoscope for today says it all: If you're talking too much about the changes you want to make in your life, you could be putting too much pressure on yourself -- by giving people expectations. Sooner or later, you're going to have to start delivering results. Today you need to act, not discuss -- just jump right in and get something going. The bigger the risk is, the bigger the payoff will be. Once you get into something new, you'll never look back. Tell me about it. |
| Venting does work to release those emotions that get bottled and pressurized--try it if you haven't! After I wrote yesterday's entry I felt a little better, and of course after reading comments I felt a LOT better. I especially like knowing I'm not the only one who gets the way I get sometimes. It's nice to know I'm not the only one who occasionally becomes an emotional mess It also didn't hurt to spend some time talking to Thomas He never ever fails at putting a smile on my face--usually makes me laugh, actually-and that's a valuable friend for angsty me I entered a psychological story contest not too long ago; the contest caught my interest and held it until I just HAD to write my disturbing little story:
Don't read this tale if you don't like the kind of story that sorta creeps you out. At least I hope this story creeps you out How "disturbed" am I that I'm proud of creeping out my readers?! He he he.And lastly but not leastly, I want to mention my contest which has approximately two weeks left for entries. When I ran the "memoirs" contest I became spoiled--lots of entries very quickly. This contest seems be garnering some interest on the home stretch, but still not many entries....c'mon, I want to read! If you don't personally write mysteries, please mention it to others who DO and I'll be eternally grateful Have a great day!!! |
| This is my "overwhelmed" month. My daughter the senior has one event after another to attend in addition to my youngest dauther's end-of-year events--concerts, dinners, assemblies, etc. It's easy to get bogged down in it all and for me to become irritable, bored, agitated, and for the whole "single parent" thing to seriously sink in. Their dad has never been an active part of their school lives or extracurricular activities. Most of the time he doesn't support anything that might cost him money-merely the truth-or time. His own parents weren't good about providing those things to him or his siblings, hence he has never understood the need to provide those things to his own, always a point of friction between himself and me. My kids really don't do much. None of them were big into sports or played much in the way of organized athletics. Part of the reason for that was my need to pick and choose my battles with their dad, and part of it was my belief that kids DO need time to be just kids; time to run around outside with neighborhood friends and build those "clubhouses" and all that. We're lucky to live in a community where such things still happen, and I've always wanted my kids have those childhood experiences that only come from unscheduled, unstructured playtime outside. So they're in choir and band through the school district, they were all in dance at one time or another, and occasionally, especially in the summer, they'll attend a workshop or class for art, acting, or some other thing that catches their fancy. They've all been involved in school and/or community plays here and there, but this year has actually been a quiet one--and still I'm feeling overwhelmed. My middle daughter, the "helper", is going off to college in the fall and along with graduation events and preperations I have to think about that and get practical, making lists for what she'll need, where she'll live, etc. I'm having to deal with my mixed emotions over her leaving. I'm so proud of her but already feeling the ache of her absence next year, and striving not to show it. My oldest unstable daughter has taken to flitting off for days at a time, often not bothering to call and let me know she's even alive till she shows up, scarfs food, sleeps for hours, and then flits off again. She is, of course, not taking her meds regularly when she does this and I know she, at this point in her life, revels in her instability. I just don't have the time or strength to deal with her right now, and to be horribly, brutally honest, our house is more peaceful when she's not here. That doesn't mean I don't sit and stew about what she's up to and what phone call I should prepare myself to receive. So I'm just overwhelmed right now. I wish I wasn't, I wish I could handle all this with the calm outer persona I'm showing the world, but I'm not. Inside that smiling exterior, I'm a mess. Just a vent. |
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