You never know what you'll find - humor, ramblings, rants, randomness- it's all me! |
Reader Beware: Thoughts will be scattered and unconnected. All my life all I've ever wanted . . . . I freaking don't know! but here's the deal, lately - okay not lately - for a long time now this intro to a thought keeps nagging my brain - like I'm suppose to write something in that direction. I know some of you will call that a muse. For some reason that word just creeps me out - i'm weird that way - so can we call it herman or something. here's the thing - I write quite a bit - but there are 3 basic ways I come up with my writing: 1. a prompt 2. an actual event in my life that I throw lies into it so it is not so personal that it makes me feel vulnerable 3. I'm dared (thus the erotica and dark section of my portfolio -- even though I admt I pretty much enjoyed it) Really, there is only one time I can truly remember writing about something that just kept popping in my mind -- I finally did it thinking no one would understand it because i wasn't even sure I did. . . . I just had to get it out. You know? Ironically, it was later asked to be published in a short story anthology. It kinda leaves me shaking my head. So back to "All my life all I've ever wanted . . . . First of all, it is not even a sentence I would use structurally because it uses "all" twice. Yet it is the mantra in my mind. I don't know what I've wanted all my life --it changes, like your taste buds. How could I want the same thing ALL my life? I'm not the same person with the same interests and philosophies that I was at 6 or 16 or 25 or for that matter last year. Now, I can remember even as a little girl, praying to God to please let me live until I was old enough to have a child of my own. That prayer continued until i had one in which it changed to a prayer of thanks and asking to let me live to experience life with him. Dont' get me wrong, I don't have some weird phobia of death. I mean I'm not like counting down the days until it; but I don't close my eyes freaked out that they will never open. For awhile i thought maybe it was: All my live all I've ever wanted was to make people happy - but then I laughed out loud - because I think most of us go through that "screw others - it's about me phase" = and though that didn't last long for me - I do still hold on to a part of it on occasion. So strike that one. I've never been one that dreamed of fame. or money for that matter -- I mean I wouldn't turn down a little more but it isn't something that fits into the sentence. Love? yeah, I've wanted to be loved, accepted for me. And I have experienced it -- and while love is a true blessing - through journeys I have realized sometimes loving and accepting yourself is just as important and gratifying. All my life all I've ever wanted . . . . was to be worth fighting for. I admit this one has a familiar ring to it. I don't mean "meet me in the back alley - I fight ya for good ole Audra". I mean a relationship that when it got a little tough - it was worth doing the tough thing and trying to make it work - fighting to have me in their life, not taking the easy way and just quitting. But then, I realized that's not a fair wish, because haven't I taken the easy road before too? A close friend and I sort of had this discussion this week. I think what was hard for both of us was that our goals for what we wanted in the future in each of our lives were very different - and because people are the way we are - we both thought we were 'right'. Though both of us our intelligent enough to know in that circumstance there isn't a right. but it is hard to see beyond oneself and situation, to really put yourself in someone else's place and the way they think, to realize what they want for themselves is right. So I'm back to All my life all I've ever wanted . . . . Such a qualifying phrase - i mean come on - ALL my life - that's a looooonnnnngggggg time. As i sit here, reflecting to when i was 6 and 18, and 22, and 35 and 42 and yesterday and tomorrow the only thread of similarity I can come up with is: All my life all I've ever wanted was to be a better person. Where am I supposed to go with that? Apparently, forward. Dazed and confused, Audra I ** Image ID #1529452 Unavailable ** |
This is how it went: Betty (my mom, not my son's dog): Here, Audra, take some okra home with you. The garden is overflowing with it. Now, keep in mind while some of you are gagging, if you grow up with it, fried okra is a delicacy, especially in Oklahoma. Me: Mom, I don't know how to make fried okra. Betty: You've seen me do it a million times. (giggle giggle) Me: Yes, and Reese (my son) has seen me drive here a thousand times, yet I'm not giving him the keys and I'm pretty sure he couldn't even tell me how to get here. Betty: Well, it's easy. This is what you do. Get your corn meal. Me: What is that? I mean I can buy some but is it in a jar, box? What aisle might this be on. Betty: Ummm, near the flour, probably. Me: Okay. So, she goes on telling me in a about 5 steps how to make fried okra, but there was one thing she kept saying over and over. Betty: You have to make sure your oil is hot! Well, at first I thought she was talking about olive oil because that's all i've ever used. Which brought on a plethora of jokes on my part - okra is a vegatable thus vegatable, it's not an olive. . . . Do you even have a kitchen? . . . It's the one where the fridge is, I'm sure you know it now. . . . I know it's odd that i'm a 43 year old woman from the Midwest and I've never fried anything - but I just haven't. I grill, I bake, i make crap up, but I don't fry. But you know they've pushed my buttons with their teasing, so i'm bound and determined to make some damn good fried okra. Corn meal bought - check Cut tips off - check Soak in salt water - check VEGATABLE oil is hot - check Cover in corn meal - check (but it is gross) Pulling my head out of my butt - no check, sadly So i go to the hot grease and dump the okra in, and I know this is obvious to most of the living world, but it wasn't to me - this action causes the grease to splatter - all over the top of my bare feet (yes, you have my permission to make a joke about me being barefoot in the kitchen). You know what helps burns? NOTHING - it's just going to burn no matter how much you cuss or put ice on it - which is not easy while you are trying to fry okra to prove that you can do it despite lack of family support. This is how long the next event took -- I look down at my foot to see if I'm ever going to be able to wear shoes again, and when i look back up. . . My stove is on FIRE! I dont' mean sparks, we are talking flames. Somehow I don't remember this is the directions. But - school saftey classes from elementary click in and i remember not to throw water on a grease fire - the blonde part of me thinks for a minute but this is vegatable oil - is that grease?. I pushed her out of my mind. Hopping on my least burnt foot, I remove the skillet from burner, turn off the burner, and well, prayed. The flames said goodbye, sweet Audra. You would think I would give up at this point.. . No friggin' way - I will not be conquered. Or so I thought. When I finally deem the okra "done", it looks like something that has already gone through the digestive track. Besides that, I'm not really in the mood to eat - I'm in pain and my house smells like smoke. I look over and my son's dog, Betty (named after my mom by my son - a show of love), is looking at me like: Hey, you going to share or what? Me: Betty, is vegatables and corn meal you aren't going to like it. She cocks her head. Me: fine you can try it. I set it down; she sniffs at it, raises the side of her lip, sits back contemplating. I lose interest in watching her, so I begin to tend to my burnt stove. Later, I look down to see every drop of okra gone. About that time, my mother calls. Mom: How was the okra? Me: Well, every bit was eaten. Mom: See, I told you it was easy. We have plenty where that came from. Besides you know the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Rolling my eyes, Betty (the dog) begins to lick my burned feet. I think, I don't know about a man's stomach, but it sure makes a dog love you. Audra Over and out |
Since I'm a teacher, you'd think my automatic response would be "OH HELL YES!". And for the most part that is my answer, but maybe not every minute. You see I've been doing some MAJOR (why am I using caps? I hate it when people do that?) cleaning, organizing, even some outdoor work which just doesn't even seem like me to me. I'd like to say that today I was going through a box of various papers, picturese, souveniers, leisurely reminiscing. But truth be told, I was frantically looking for a financial document my son needed for his future. (which by the way I did find, as well as about 10 copies of it. Apparently, I had the foresight to know I was going to misplace it, but not the intelligence to store the copies in various places). With each new thing I discovered, randoma questions kept popping into my head. Like, why are all the documents we have to keep somewhat negative - divorce papers, medical bills, you get the picture? Yes, I did find a birth certificate, which was a happy event, but then again it did make me realzie how fast time is - three years and the love of my life who is currently driving me insane by doing nothing but sleeping, eating, and talking about random things (gee I wonder where he gets that?)will be graduated and started his own life. I've never been one of these teary moms on the first day of school. But lately, it is killing me. I mean, I'm proud, of course, he is a great kid/person. But I now understand the selfishness my mom had with me as I got in high school. I was the youngest child; he's the only child. lol - i don't know which would be the toughest in this situation. So of course, in this box of madness are 5000 pictures from when he was little, and it kills me that many of the moments that I remember so clearly and treasure probably too much, he doesn't even remember. I mean I know realistically he shouldn't, he was a tiny kid, but the other part of me just can't comprehend how something i deem as monumental isn't in his memories. I mean I get that they are a part of him. Our life moments make us who we are. I guess I'm just kind of sad for him, that can't reexperience those as memories. But then I realize he will - when he has his own kids. Oh my gosh, I must have PMS or becoming some sort of bipolar menopausal tornado of emotions (actaully i haven't been diagnosed with any of that fyi -- it just sounded good). I just called my 70 year old mom (I'm 43) and apologized for being mean to her when I was in high school. Apparently, my son isn't the only one that loses memories. She couldn't figure out what I was talking about. She said I was the easy kid to raise. lol - and then she called me back wanting examples - she thought maybe I had gotten away with something and the guilt was finally consuming me. Continuing through my box discoveries (I'm wiping tears - I'm such a baby!), I found an essay I had written in college. By what I had written, I'm guessing the topic was something along the lines of What would you do if there were do overs or if you could have one day back. (yeah, that's right I don't REMEMBER lol - but to my credit - I'm an English teacher, I see lots of dang prompts). I definitely had my love of semicolons even back then. What got me thinking wasn't so much what I wrote about, but the way I wrote it. I don't mean grammatically or organization, but I guess more of the tone. It was like it was coming from an entirely different person, yet I can see myself writing it. The person that wrote that paper was cocky (different from confident) - the idea of another chance (or whatever it was) wasn't that interesting to her you could tell, but by damn she was going to make you think it was with her writing - she was getting an A. She still had in her those feelings of invinicibility that the future holds much more to it than the past does. Now that same person would love a few do overs - not to change anything mind you, but just to live them once more. Well, enough rambling - no one reads the long blogs anyway, huh? Reaching for the Midol or xanaax, Ralls |
Dear Mice Management, I'm writing to request you obliterate your entire race. Why? you may ask. Because I have an unreasonable fear of your species. Maybe this seems extreme to you, but it would really eleviate a lot of stress in my life. I do appreciate the efforts you've made. I mean, I haven't seen you in my house except for that one time 2 summers ago. And I admit, my blood pressure has resumed to normal now. But the thing is, my fear of mice is widely known. Therefore, people find humor in scaring me, especially my 15 year old son. So I figured, if mice were to somehow inexplicable become extinct, the only real thing he'd have to scare me about is the world ending this year - in which case, you'd become extinct anyway. I'm not asking you make a big production about it or anything. A quiet mass suicide would do the trick. Or even a simple starvation strike. Whatever works best for you and your beady-eyed friends. Thank you for reading this letter. I appreciate your timely attention to this matter. Fear-thee-well, Audra |
In 200 words or more, write a post about a world-wide issue that you feel needs support. I'm not sure this is world-wide, but it is on my mind right now - and I just really need to express it. Of course, I'll probably delete it for fear my opinions will be misunderstood and be on the next News 4 update. lol - yeah, like that many people read this. Anywaaaaayyy, my issue is educators. No, I didn't say education. I said and meant educators. I am one, so I kind of feel like I have an expertise in this area. But you can't care about educators without having a strong feeling about education as well. Here's the deal - I just came from a conference where I listened to a man tell us about 20 things teachers need to do in addition to teaching. I listened with an open mind. The other teachers at my table from another school made smart ass comments about how unfeasible it was to implement, if it ain't broke don't fix it - etc. Well, apparently some of it is broke and does need mending. I guess when I started really getting "resentful" (that's not the write description, but it is the best to come to me right now) is when I realized I do many of these teaching methods the speaker was talking about, but he was taking it a step further and telling us how we need to document, graph, statistic sheets, etc. these things. Why must we do this? Because we have to cover our asses. Well, I got a big ass - okay that's beside the point. Let's cut to the chase. I am now suppose to document my teaching almost minute by minute (silly me - I thought lesson plans were documentation), graph each student's progress (isn't this a grade book?), and prove in documentation everything I've done in the day and preparation for the day. Why do I have to do this? Because some teachers simply don't do their jobs. So you think by giving them more to do you are going to make them implement what you want? B.S. (that's not bachelor of science) You are going to overload the ones that do what they are supposed to making the good ones leave the profession. Did I say profession? Yeah, I'm a professional. Yes, I get the summer's off (we will talk about that later), and my contract worktime ends at 3:15. But is not just a job, it is a profession. Fire the ones who don't do their job. You would fire your lawyer if he was a slackass. I'd quit going to my doctor if he couldn't remember my name or gave me the wrong perscriptions. Fire them! Yeah, I said it. Set your expectations, explain them to them, assess them and if they aren't doing the job - lead them to the door. I'm not even talking about the salary - no one goes into teaching thinking they are going to get rich. But if I am a professional, I should be respected as one. I don't punish the whole class for a few misbehaving. Don't punish or judge us because some people chose the wrong profession and doing a bad job. I'm all for change. We've implemented plenty in our small rural school. We have a no zero policy. I bring their happy hineys in for lunch or after school until it's done. We reassess when I child didn't pass a test. I find creative ways to teach. We celebrate successes. I teach, reteach, and reteach again. It's my profession. It's my passion, but let me do it. Don't overload me with so much paperwork that I don't have time for the kids. Because, you know what? They need me. Yep, they do. Occasionally, they even need a hug from me. And guess what? I forget the many times I've heard to "protect ourselves" we shouldn't touch the kids. I'll risk a lawsuit. kIds need a high 5, a pat on the back, and even a hug now and then. I won't be scared out of doing what I was made to do - teach. Are there teachers who teach to get the summers off? Of course. And I'm not about to tell you I hate that i have summers off. It's amazing! I get to spend time with my son - time that in some ways makes me feel less guilty for the times I might have deprived him because I was giving it to someone else's child. Summers off? Many teachers get a job in the summer to help implement a teacher's salary. In my summers, I do all the things I didn't have time for during the year, go to educational work shops, figure how to do the job better next year. See, we don't really get off at 3:15. I still have my room to clean, papers to grade, lesson plans to make happen, tutoring, and everything else I'm forgetting. Plus, most teachers don't just teach. When I was hired they said, "And what extra curricula club are you qualified to be the sponsor of." (Does your pediatrician also coach your little league team? Maybe he does) I don't want to send the wrong message. I absolutely passionately love what I do everyday. And I think I'm damn good at it too. All I'm saying is, teachers are individuals and should be treated as such. If I don't do what I was hired to do, fire me. But if I'm doing a good job, please don't ask me to write a report on why I taught object of preposition the way i did. Let me have some time to go to the kids basketball games and cheer them on. It will mean a lot more to them than a paper I write that goes into a file. Okay, I'm done preaching. Well, more like rambling. Thanks! Audra |
When you are writing, do you prefer to use a pen or a computer? It used to just be the computer because I can type faster than I can write so it was easier to keep up with my random thoughts. However, a couple of years ago a student gave me a writing journal. While I was touched at the gesture, I honestly didn't think I would use it much. Ha! That's what I get for thinking. It's about even now. I found a brainstorm and preplan much more when I use the pen, but on the other hand there are more unfinished documents in the journal than on the computer. So potato patato - you know what I'm saying. On a completely different subject: GOOOOOOOOOOO POKKKKKEESSSSSS - My Oklahoma State Cowboys won the Fiesta Bowl in overtime! I thought my son was going to have a heartache during the game, but seeing his excitement was even better than the game. I couldn't sleep last night - Insomnia is an evil bitch (can I say that in a blog?). So now I'm all fuzzy feeling, and turning into a girly girl wearing my feelings on my sleeve. It's like a unscheduled PMS feeling. I know too much information. Hey, it's my blog - you don't have to read it. SEEEEE - I'm a moody one today. Okay off to kick the dogs - I mean feed the dogs - really I do mean feed the dogs. Have a good one! Audra |
Okay I wasn't going to write about this but I just have to. Why? I don't know. Yesterday, I woke up with this red spot on the end of my nose. Like a wanna-be Rudolph. I thought, "Great, thanks fate. A pimple on the first day of the New Year." I mean really, I'm 42, do I have to still get pimples? Well, today it is bigger and the sucker is hard. And let me tell you when you touch it it hurtsssssssss. I know this because my son goes "What's wrong with your nose, Mom?" and then he reaches up and squeezes before I realize what he's doing. I screamed. He ran. So, I google. Big Red Bump on Nose. Holy Hat. According to 2 sources, I must be close to death because the veins that go to the nose are near those that go to the brain. So, now I'm not even going to live to see the end of the world. Another explained in detail what will happen if it is a boil. Let's just say, I think my eyes teared up. and you know what it's probably just a good ole fashioned zit. but now i'm going to obsess over it because random people wrote about their horrific experiences with Rudolph-itis. I have an appt. with my gynecologist tomorrow, but somehow I don't think this is his area of expertise. Plus I'll have it covered up with make-up because I'm sure not going to be seen in public like this. OHHHHHH. . . . and word of advice - though I know many of you won't follow it. Don't google images of boils. Actually, I used ask.com not google. And no, my nose does not look like those. . . . yet! Rudolph signing out |
2012 to others is a tragic year since it is associated with end of days. Express your sentiments on this Really? Am I doing this? Writing about a topic I refuse to acknowledge? Damn, this is going to take skill. First of all, I know it's not true, because in the Bible (which I do believe in) it says we won't know when the end of days will be. But on the other hand, I can't deny that part of the hoopla does instill a little fear in me - Hence, the reason I refuse to talk about it. WHICH . . . makes it a topic my 15 year old son brings up at every opportunity. Even to the point of buying me the 2012 movie. Gee . . . thanks, son. And let's see, the fact that there were big volcanic eruptions and earthquakes on the 1st day of 2012 only add yet more fuel to his fire of torment. And you know what? Why would we believe the Mayans. I know I'm not the biggest history buff, but I don't even know who they are. Well, I know a little since MY SON did his research paper over them. The turd. lol. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure it is going to be a tragic year for some people. And let's face it, it will be the end of days for some. I mean people do die. I, however, hold fast that God loves me enough that He knows I don't do will with timelines. Procrastination is my buddy. So to know the date i'm going to die would cause me so much stress i'd probably stroke out before it happened. So I'll chose to believe that 2012 will be a year of happiness, goodwill, and all that positive stuff for me. I know many of you probably wrote much deeper, philosophical things based on research and fact, but hey, I have 2 more days on vacation. I choose to stay shallow and just be me. Besides the fact that despite my love of research there is no way in hell i'm researching 2012. Get real! Peace and love! Audra |
Your day 1- What makes you happy this New Year? At first when I saw this prompt, I was like pffft we are all going to say the same thing. Then I realized how egotistic that was. I mean sure who doesn't feel happy when they are in good health. And most of our family pretty much makes us happy. Well, every family has a couple of members that you are hoping don't show up at gatherings with a new goat or something. But overall - family is good. Good makes happy. Unless you are in middle school, friends tend to bring more happiness than drama. God - how can that not be happy? Then, I thought I'd think a little deeper, but it turned really into less deep more shallow. I thought what makes me go, "Yessssssss, this is going to be a great day." For instance, if it's weiner wrap day in the cafeteria at school. Yes, I said it - weiner wrap. Laugh if you must, but it makes me happy. Cheap wine - especially when shared with my father in some kind of make shift wine glass. When the whole house is clean -- okay - thats never happened so I'm just hypothesizing that it would bring happiness. Good hair days - especially when someone notices that it's been a good hair day. Even though, I must admit even the best of hair days end up in a ponytail by the end of the day in my world. A random text from that special someone -- that brings a smile. Good coffee while snuggled under a homemade quilt. So there you have it: weiner wraps, cheap wine, and coffee -- I'm an easy woman to please! Happy New Year to you all! Audra |
How do you cure writer’s block? Do you have a special ritual that you go through when you encounter writer’s block? Or do you just suffer through it and hope it clears up or goes away? See I guess I'm not a real writer because if i don't have anything to say i just don't write. I may edit or revise, but since it is more of a guilty pleasure - i don't freak out about it. Or honestly somethimes I write knowing it is crap but also knowing that writing is subjective so I know at least one person will tell me it is okay even if it is just out of pity. I'm okay with writing pity. feel free to dish me up some. "Where do you turn to and what do you see when you're lonely?" Lonely? huh? At least to me lonely and being alone arent the same thing. I fight for some time alone trust me. I'd reather have it sometimse than a pedicure wichi i just recently found out i love. i have been lonley surrounded by people. I guess its when i feel like my life and needs are invisible, when it is all about me giving rather than being able to reach out. Lonely is rare with me, but when I do feel that way I turn to prayer and am reminded i'm never alone. Imagine the abstract part of you (mind, soul, spirit) is a house. What rooms are in the house? Which room is your favorite, or are you afraid of, or do you find yourself in most? Describe one of these rooms in detail, or give us an overview of the whole house full of rooms. Beep Beep Beep I'm sorry Audra is unable to completle this prompt for the following reasons: 1. She's a slacker 2. She isn't deep or detailed enough for this prompt 3. Her abstract house in her mind has recently caved in due to an abundance of stress. All rooms are toppled in together with no rhyme or reason, and no idea where to start the reconstruction. Suggestions? Write an experience where you were scammed by a transaction. How do you fight with it? I can think of twice i've been scammed - Well,, scammed and screwed over. How do I fight with it? I bury it way down deep - lol healthy right? could this be connecting to the above cave in? nahhhhhh Oh, wait I'm not sure these are transacations? Yeah, they are close enough. The thing with scamming me is it just pisses me off. For the basic reason that I would give you almost anything you want if you just ask. I'm too nice - well, when I'm not being a bitch. But i'm not materialistic (except with these new shoes I want so badly) so if i have it and you want it i just usually give it to you. So don't bother scamming me. Sometimes I shake my head at myself, Audra |