A few years ago while volunteering for Earthfest I was approached by a pair of students from one of the area high schools. One held a video camera, the other a microphone. They were asking attendees if they would be willing to answer one question in front of their camera for a project.
"What is the most important question?"
Perhaps it was because I was in the middle of working my tail end off for an event that has become a massive labor of love, but in that moment the answer was simple. "What can I do to make the world around me a better place?" I further explained, "I am responsible for the community around me, the community that my children will be raised in, and for the environment generations to come will have to live in. So what can I do to create the best possible results?"
Up until being approached for this school project, I had never thought of it in these terms. I mean, that's just what you do, right? Be a good person, do the right thing, work hard, all that jazz? I long ago established that I am responsible for what happens to me, the good, the bad and the ugly. It isn't some pissed off god dumping his wrath on me. It isn't that the world is just a shitty place, and I better buck up and deal with it. Things happen because of me, not to me. And when the bad and the ugly hit, I believe that it is an opportunity to learn a lesson.
I am currently raising three children, ages 5, 12 and 15. The two older were primarily raised in a different home with blatantly different rules, ethics, and lessons being taught. Any stepparent will tell you this is not an easy position to be in.
Without going on an unnecessary tirade, I will say this much. The other home did not do much to instill the concept of responsibility or self-accountability. One of the adults raising the children in that home has yet to understand those concepts, so how on earth would the children have a chance to follow suit? It has been nearly a year since they have been primarily under this roof, and from day one we have set some clear guidelines and rules. Mistakes were made with the appropriate adjustments, but we are at a pretty steady pace today.
Alas, there is still much work to be done. We have a list of chores, and each kid must choose one a day before going to TV, computer, etc. I'm assuming we're pretty run-of-the-mill when it comes to after-school routine. As the routine sinks in each week, things do get a little better. But there's an elephant in the room that isn't as clear-cut as some issues. Even as I write this blog, I'm having a tough time articulating what it is. So here goes.
The two older children don't seem to see a bigger picture in anything they do. I guess the simple way to say it is that they don't pay attention to their surroundings. I am also attempting to teach the idea that if the way you are completing a task isn't working, change it up so it works better.
As an example that touches all of these; we own a portable machine dishwasher. In order to hook it up to the kitchen sink, you must turn it 90 degrees for the hose to reach. When it's turned and you open the door, it blocks the bottom of the stairway to the second floor. The other night, the 15 year old chose the dishes as his chore. It did not occur to him to check to see if the dishes in there were clean or not (they were), so he ran them again. Afterwords he started putting them away. It was later in the evening, everyone was home, so the traffic up and down the stairs was pretty heavy. He kept getting frustrated at the fact that he would have to close the dishwasher door to let people through.
Now, none of the above offenses are dire, by any means. But do you see the lessons that could be taught here? It is neither difficult nor mentally demanding to check on the state of the dishes or to turn the dishwasher so the path to the stairs would be cleared. It seems to me that deviating from the basic and primitive plan (I must clean the dishes) requires some "outside the box" thinking that he has simply not been taught. I see similar examples every day. If there's a shoe in the middle of the floor that everyone keeps tripping on, no one thinks to pick it up and put it away. They're content with the fact that it's there and it's now just a part of life to trip over it. (UGH! Why did someone put this shoe here?! Why do I keep tripping?? The world sucks, and clearly I'm just a clutz!)Exaggeration? Maybe. Maybe not.
There was once a commercial that showed a small queue of well-dressed people on the sidewalk, staring at a piece of litter two feet away from a trash can. They are all just looking at it, discussing how horrible it is that someone would be so lazy as to not just put it in the trash. Some kid in flannel and a backwards hat comes along, sees it, picks it up, and throws it in the garbage can with a pause and a smile to the others, and is quietly on his way.
My stepsons, and many others, are the queue of onlookers. What's worse, they're not even complaining about the trash. There's this blase feeling combined with a lack of accountability that I just can't wrap my head around. Being pro-active seems to have become an "outside the box" thinking concept. Call this a stretch, but I must ask, if a person is incapable of going out of their way to resolve some little household cleaning issue, how on earth can they go on solve greater issues in the world outside of our four walls?
Are there bigger fish to fry? Of course! There are starving people in [insert third-world country here], war in the middle east, homelessness, violence against women, the list goes on. And it gets to be overwhelming, even depressing just watching the nightly news. I've often said to members of the community, "You can only do what you can only do." What that means is, you will not single-handedly cure cancer, create world peace, feed the hungry masses, etc. What you can do is, donate to the food pantry, smile at a random stranger, and yes, even pick up that piece of trash.
But kids, I beg of you, start with your own rooms. And maybe the kitchen if you wish to eat.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Busting at the Seams
I was once told that I missed my calling, after having written some lovely bits on Facebook about random people who sent me a number privately, then posting their number with how I feel about them publicly. I'm thinking about doing that again. It's interesting to see who responds.
There is a multitude of ways that I am "busting at the seams," as it were. First, ugh, my weight. I started two new jobs at the beginning of this year (I shall get to that later,) and the new schedule through my eating habits into a whirlwind. After an undisclosed number of pounds later, I said enough is enough. I got my gym membership back, and I've been paying closer attention to my food intake. I was calorie counting, but I've stopped for the moment.
I've become borderline addicted to running. I think it's because there is an infinite number of goals to create for oneself. Last summer I planned to run a 5K for charity. Between school and finances, that goal fell by the wayside. I'm back at it. My 5K interval run/walk is at about 42 minutes right now. Considering I've been at this for about 6 weeks, with a one week spring break hiatus, I'm thinking that's pretty damn good. Tonight I ran a mile straight through, a feat I couldn't even pull off in high school. My biggest battle is not getting bored with the treadmill. According to the calendar, it's April 4th. Mother nature feels it is February 4th. Running in the real world will, hopefully, be more interesting.
So, as previously mentioned, I started two new jobs at the beginning of the year. Firstly, I found a fantastic space to massage out of...in Oostburg. I swore I would never go back save for visiting family. I had a client tell me the other day that Oostburg isn't what it used to be, referring to children who come to school with inadequately warm clothing in the winter, obvious signs of neglect and things of the like. It's like everyone thought Oostburg was immune to such things, and real life is finally settling in. The town still drives me batshit crazy, but I've been fortunate in having some amazing clients come out of the area. As for our budget, everything I make doing massage is "extra," and I feel blessed that a pretty fair amount has been coming in.
The other job just landed in front of me at the right time. I now work in the office of Theater for Young Audiences. I litterally got the call from Deb saying that I was hired for the job the same week I signed the contract for my massage office space. 2013 greeted me with quite a smile.
Not a day goes by that I don't think of how blessed I am. It's truly hard not to brag. In both jobs, I'm fairly in control of my own schedule, with the flexability to be there for the kids when and if the need arises. Not only that, but I have this altogether unique sense of self. OK, sure I take my pentacle necklace off for most massage clients. But let's face it, I'm doing what I went to school for, and LOVE IT. It rarely feels like work.
TYA is a horse of a different color. Much of it is traditional office work; book keeping, paying the bills, responding to emails, etc. But I will never forget the morning after my husbands grandmother passed away, when Deb comes in, needing to learn how to juggle scarves for the upcoming show. She had a bag of sheer scarves, I did some YouTube searches, and next thing you know, I'm juggling scarves in the office. What better way to get out of a funk.
Oh, and this freedom to do things, like attend discussions, go to the gym, hang with friends without praying $5 will be enough. That, without a doubt, is the most alien feelign to me.
We have had the boys full time since last October. That has been an adventure in itself. I won't say it's been perfect, but gods knows this needed to happen. The family has had some growing pains, and the frustration of issues past are still very much here and alive. Having more control of the situation has been a blessing and a curse. It feels good that we are no longer fighting the 'one step forward, two steps back' battle we faught for years. At the same time *in my best whiny voice,* parenting is haaard! I say that tongue in cheek, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
Lastly, there is Earthfest. Kathy has hung up her hat and asked me to take the reigns. I technically said yes, but I haven't done nearly the amount of work I should have at this point. At some point, I stuck my head in the sand, and it is slowly being pulled out. I will get there, as I have no other choice. I have faith that it will be OK, and that's what keeps me going.
There is a multitude of ways that I am "busting at the seams," as it were. First, ugh, my weight. I started two new jobs at the beginning of this year (I shall get to that later,) and the new schedule through my eating habits into a whirlwind. After an undisclosed number of pounds later, I said enough is enough. I got my gym membership back, and I've been paying closer attention to my food intake. I was calorie counting, but I've stopped for the moment.
I've become borderline addicted to running. I think it's because there is an infinite number of goals to create for oneself. Last summer I planned to run a 5K for charity. Between school and finances, that goal fell by the wayside. I'm back at it. My 5K interval run/walk is at about 42 minutes right now. Considering I've been at this for about 6 weeks, with a one week spring break hiatus, I'm thinking that's pretty damn good. Tonight I ran a mile straight through, a feat I couldn't even pull off in high school. My biggest battle is not getting bored with the treadmill. According to the calendar, it's April 4th. Mother nature feels it is February 4th. Running in the real world will, hopefully, be more interesting.
So, as previously mentioned, I started two new jobs at the beginning of the year. Firstly, I found a fantastic space to massage out of...in Oostburg. I swore I would never go back save for visiting family. I had a client tell me the other day that Oostburg isn't what it used to be, referring to children who come to school with inadequately warm clothing in the winter, obvious signs of neglect and things of the like. It's like everyone thought Oostburg was immune to such things, and real life is finally settling in. The town still drives me batshit crazy, but I've been fortunate in having some amazing clients come out of the area. As for our budget, everything I make doing massage is "extra," and I feel blessed that a pretty fair amount has been coming in.
The other job just landed in front of me at the right time. I now work in the office of Theater for Young Audiences. I litterally got the call from Deb saying that I was hired for the job the same week I signed the contract for my massage office space. 2013 greeted me with quite a smile.
Not a day goes by that I don't think of how blessed I am. It's truly hard not to brag. In both jobs, I'm fairly in control of my own schedule, with the flexability to be there for the kids when and if the need arises. Not only that, but I have this altogether unique sense of self. OK, sure I take my pentacle necklace off for most massage clients. But let's face it, I'm doing what I went to school for, and LOVE IT. It rarely feels like work.
TYA is a horse of a different color. Much of it is traditional office work; book keeping, paying the bills, responding to emails, etc. But I will never forget the morning after my husbands grandmother passed away, when Deb comes in, needing to learn how to juggle scarves for the upcoming show. She had a bag of sheer scarves, I did some YouTube searches, and next thing you know, I'm juggling scarves in the office. What better way to get out of a funk.
Oh, and this freedom to do things, like attend discussions, go to the gym, hang with friends without praying $5 will be enough. That, without a doubt, is the most alien feelign to me.
We have had the boys full time since last October. That has been an adventure in itself. I won't say it's been perfect, but gods knows this needed to happen. The family has had some growing pains, and the frustration of issues past are still very much here and alive. Having more control of the situation has been a blessing and a curse. It feels good that we are no longer fighting the 'one step forward, two steps back' battle we faught for years. At the same time *in my best whiny voice,* parenting is haaard! I say that tongue in cheek, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
Lastly, there is Earthfest. Kathy has hung up her hat and asked me to take the reigns. I technically said yes, but I haven't done nearly the amount of work I should have at this point. At some point, I stuck my head in the sand, and it is slowly being pulled out. I will get there, as I have no other choice. I have faith that it will be OK, and that's what keeps me going.
Friday, December 21, 2012
I cannot look away...
Today is the winter solstice. The darkest day of the year in which we look forward to the light joining us once again. It is also the one week anniversary of the mass shooting in Massachusetts. Since I saw the first post on Facebook about the shooting last Friday, I have not been able to peel myself away.
Children a mere two years older than my daughter are gone from this world, for reasons we may never know. Innocent souls who just wanted to open presents from Santa next Tuesday morning will not have that chance. I see the outpouring of love from around the world, the tears, and the petty bickering all over social media as to who's to blame, and I cannot look away.
I am one of millions of mothers around the world. I was a mom before I fully became a mom. I married a man with two boys, and through some of the early struggles, I adored them from the word "go." I often note that before giving birth, I never cried for movies. I was quite numb to the violence, sadness and fear projected on the silver screen. Giving birth changed all of that. There are movies that I once loved that I can no longer bear to watch. Yet, this 24/7 reality show that is the news acts like another one of those movies, and I cannot look away.
Thanks to social media, it takes no more than a click of the mouse to blame the NRA, a lack of God in schools, lack of access to mental wellness care, and what have you for this event. Pardon my moment of lewdness, but fuck all of you. Yes, perhaps it's easier to search for blame than to feel the pain violent tragedy induces. The President was not afraid to shed a tear in front of the camera. Don't be afraid to shed one in the comfort of your monitor's glow. I promise, it's OK. It shows you're still human.
At 9:30 EST the country shared a moment of silence. Here in Wisconsin, it was 8:30 and I was walking my daughter into her school, her purple gloved hand in mine. As I type this, 9:30 CST is approaching, and I will stop and meditate on these thoughts.
I'm completely jealous of the fact that my daughter has no idea what happened last week. I had a short bit of time between appointments that day to stop at her daycare and give her a quick hug and kiss while she ate her lunch after hearing preliminary accounts of the shooting. She had no idea why I was there other than to wish her a fun time at her cousin's birthday party/sleepover that night. She wanted to come home with me right then and there, which is odd, as she loves her daycare and never wants to leave. Alas, I had to go to work, and not see her until the following morning.
I frequently work nights, and don't get home until after the kids are in bed. Every night, I go into my daughter's room and kiss her goodnight. She never wakes, but it's a ritual I've maintained since she's been able to sleep soundly enough for me to pull this off. I cannot fathom having to cease that ritual. The very thought sinks my heart into my stomach.
I know my voice is one of millions around the world who is sharing their condolences. My wish for all of the affected families is that you may go forward today, on the Winter Solstice, and welcome the light back into your world. No person can be replaced. But I hope that, in time, you will receive closure and find a way to forgive. Until such time that absolute peace can be obtained, I will not look away.
Children a mere two years older than my daughter are gone from this world, for reasons we may never know. Innocent souls who just wanted to open presents from Santa next Tuesday morning will not have that chance. I see the outpouring of love from around the world, the tears, and the petty bickering all over social media as to who's to blame, and I cannot look away.
I am one of millions of mothers around the world. I was a mom before I fully became a mom. I married a man with two boys, and through some of the early struggles, I adored them from the word "go." I often note that before giving birth, I never cried for movies. I was quite numb to the violence, sadness and fear projected on the silver screen. Giving birth changed all of that. There are movies that I once loved that I can no longer bear to watch. Yet, this 24/7 reality show that is the news acts like another one of those movies, and I cannot look away.
Thanks to social media, it takes no more than a click of the mouse to blame the NRA, a lack of God in schools, lack of access to mental wellness care, and what have you for this event. Pardon my moment of lewdness, but fuck all of you. Yes, perhaps it's easier to search for blame than to feel the pain violent tragedy induces. The President was not afraid to shed a tear in front of the camera. Don't be afraid to shed one in the comfort of your monitor's glow. I promise, it's OK. It shows you're still human.
At 9:30 EST the country shared a moment of silence. Here in Wisconsin, it was 8:30 and I was walking my daughter into her school, her purple gloved hand in mine. As I type this, 9:30 CST is approaching, and I will stop and meditate on these thoughts.
I'm completely jealous of the fact that my daughter has no idea what happened last week. I had a short bit of time between appointments that day to stop at her daycare and give her a quick hug and kiss while she ate her lunch after hearing preliminary accounts of the shooting. She had no idea why I was there other than to wish her a fun time at her cousin's birthday party/sleepover that night. She wanted to come home with me right then and there, which is odd, as she loves her daycare and never wants to leave. Alas, I had to go to work, and not see her until the following morning.
I frequently work nights, and don't get home until after the kids are in bed. Every night, I go into my daughter's room and kiss her goodnight. She never wakes, but it's a ritual I've maintained since she's been able to sleep soundly enough for me to pull this off. I cannot fathom having to cease that ritual. The very thought sinks my heart into my stomach.
I know my voice is one of millions around the world who is sharing their condolences. My wish for all of the affected families is that you may go forward today, on the Winter Solstice, and welcome the light back into your world. No person can be replaced. But I hope that, in time, you will receive closure and find a way to forgive. Until such time that absolute peace can be obtained, I will not look away.
Monday, January 2, 2012
being Grateful is not Dead
And so ends another trip around the sun. Right off the bat my knee-jerk reaction is to go over the wins and losses of 2011, and there were several biggies. A handful of which would probably drive me to tears.
Instead, I think on a Tarot reading I received at Earthfest 2010. Tarot, like any other form of divination, is far from an absolute. Timelines and details end in grey areas, and you still have the freewill to change your path if you so choose. Honestly, I don't remember much from this reading, but I do remember one line spoken by the reader. "A year from now, you'll hardly recognize yourself."
Did I have some life-altering "a-ha moment," as our dear friend Oprah has called it? Did I have a near-death experience or witness some massive trauma destined to change me forever? Nope. Shoot, I hardly lost the weight I was hoping to. The change was internal and gradual. Those who spend the most time with me have probably barely noticed. But that's OK. I'm not in it for the glory or pats on the back. That is a good portion of what has changed.
Sure, I appreciate a compliment or recognition for a job well done. But it's no longer what I strive for. I believe the quote goes, "Character is doing the right thing when nobody is looking." I work hard at my job, certainly not for the pay or recognition, as I get little of either. It's simply the way it should be. I love talking a little extra with my customers at the door. I love chatting with the kids that shadow their mom or dad, or giving treats to the dogs. It makes people smile. Sometimes it gets me a bigger tip, and it's appreciated. Which leads me to the other transformation in my life.
I. Am. Grateful. We are taught from toddlerhood to be polite. Say "Thank you," share, and compliment a job well done. These are important lessons that I'm teaching my soon to be four-year-old every day. But we then forget to be thankful for what we already have, whether it is what we have worked for, or the Universe simply let land on our lap. We forget to find beauty in the everyday.
Gratitude has been a subject that has been popping up around me quite a bit in the past few months. I started making a habit of thanking the Universe for little things; witnessing a shooting star, a good night of making more tips than expected, staying healthy while others around me get the traditional winter sickies, etc. But it seems every time gratitude slips away, some little comment made by a friend, or a program on NPR, as it were, brings me right back.
I haven't yet decided the details, but I'm determined to participate in some kind of Gratitude Project. I know the new year frequently gets people into the rarely-successful New Year's Resolution mindset, and perhaps the Project may be a brain child of that mindset. But this is something I've loosely kicked around for a few weeks.
With school, work, and a few family situations on the horizon, I've got some bumpy roads ahead. To be certain, I am grateful for the family and community I am surrounded by that will see me through this. But I'd like to give myself some simple goal to keep the gratitude in the front of my brain. It will come. I am grateful for this change, and I trust it to keep me on my path, wherever it may take me. Namaste.
Instead, I think on a Tarot reading I received at Earthfest 2010. Tarot, like any other form of divination, is far from an absolute. Timelines and details end in grey areas, and you still have the freewill to change your path if you so choose. Honestly, I don't remember much from this reading, but I do remember one line spoken by the reader. "A year from now, you'll hardly recognize yourself."
Did I have some life-altering "a-ha moment," as our dear friend Oprah has called it? Did I have a near-death experience or witness some massive trauma destined to change me forever? Nope. Shoot, I hardly lost the weight I was hoping to. The change was internal and gradual. Those who spend the most time with me have probably barely noticed. But that's OK. I'm not in it for the glory or pats on the back. That is a good portion of what has changed.
Sure, I appreciate a compliment or recognition for a job well done. But it's no longer what I strive for. I believe the quote goes, "Character is doing the right thing when nobody is looking." I work hard at my job, certainly not for the pay or recognition, as I get little of either. It's simply the way it should be. I love talking a little extra with my customers at the door. I love chatting with the kids that shadow their mom or dad, or giving treats to the dogs. It makes people smile. Sometimes it gets me a bigger tip, and it's appreciated. Which leads me to the other transformation in my life.
I. Am. Grateful. We are taught from toddlerhood to be polite. Say "Thank you," share, and compliment a job well done. These are important lessons that I'm teaching my soon to be four-year-old every day. But we then forget to be thankful for what we already have, whether it is what we have worked for, or the Universe simply let land on our lap. We forget to find beauty in the everyday.
Gratitude has been a subject that has been popping up around me quite a bit in the past few months. I started making a habit of thanking the Universe for little things; witnessing a shooting star, a good night of making more tips than expected, staying healthy while others around me get the traditional winter sickies, etc. But it seems every time gratitude slips away, some little comment made by a friend, or a program on NPR, as it were, brings me right back.
I haven't yet decided the details, but I'm determined to participate in some kind of Gratitude Project. I know the new year frequently gets people into the rarely-successful New Year's Resolution mindset, and perhaps the Project may be a brain child of that mindset. But this is something I've loosely kicked around for a few weeks.
With school, work, and a few family situations on the horizon, I've got some bumpy roads ahead. To be certain, I am grateful for the family and community I am surrounded by that will see me through this. But I'd like to give myself some simple goal to keep the gratitude in the front of my brain. It will come. I am grateful for this change, and I trust it to keep me on my path, wherever it may take me. Namaste.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Risk
"If you don't risk anything, you risk more." - Erica Jong (I had to Google her name. She's another author of sorts)
So, what does this mean to me? Quite honestly, it makes me think of how Autumn was brought into the world. It goes something like this:
So, Aaron and I had been married for a while, and we had long since determined that we wanted to have a child together. Certainly, Darren and Michael are joys to have in our lives, but we wanted to have just one kid we wouldn't have to share with anyone. Save for the grandparents. And aunts. And uncles. And friends... Anyway, we were both working jobs with crappy schedules and even crappier pay. There were a few, shall we call, riskier months in this timeline, and lo and behold, I found out I was to have a baby in about eight months time.
Truth be told, I simply froke out. I was working at Younkers at the time, and made the mistake of calling the Sheboygan Clinic's lab for my test results from the phone at my cash register. Thank gods the store was pretty slow that day. After the massive breakdown in the lunch room, my manager sent me home for the day. Aaron was sleeping, as he had worked a third shift the night before, and I woke him with the news. He was much more cheerful about it all than I was, though he did his damnest to hide it, given my tearful response.
From there, we both changed jobs, making a schedule where one of us would always be home, therefore not paying for daycare. Neither of us knew if we were going to make enough to make ends meet, and Aaron's job was a temp job that he wasn't very happy in from the word 'go'. But we did it. To this day, we are still making it work.
We frequently say that had we "planned" having our one child, we would have thought ourselves into a corner, and she'd probably still not be here. As Autumn approaches her fourth birthday (EEK!) I can't imagine life any other way.
We took a risk not using birth control for a time. And that's a biggie that has gotten many into, shall we say, trouble. But really, we take smaller risks each day. We drive cars, cross busy streets, drop off kids at daycare, the list goes on. We also allow people into our lives, risking judgement, heartbreak, disappointment, and downright hatred.
So do you really risk more by not taking risks? SURE! I mean, if you're perfectly OK with monotony, boredom, loneliness and predictability, you may disagree. You simply risk missing out. On what? Well, get out there and find out! Don't expect the love of your life to bump into you, or that winning Powerball ticket to be lying on the ground. But maybe you'll find a restaraunt that you never noticed in town, or you'll clear your head enought to remember that one grocery item you forgot to write down. Each risk, each choice, is a small gift. Sometimes it works the way you want, other times not so much. But don't worry. Tomorrow will come soon enough. Don't rush it.
So, what does this mean to me? Quite honestly, it makes me think of how Autumn was brought into the world. It goes something like this:
So, Aaron and I had been married for a while, and we had long since determined that we wanted to have a child together. Certainly, Darren and Michael are joys to have in our lives, but we wanted to have just one kid we wouldn't have to share with anyone. Save for the grandparents. And aunts. And uncles. And friends... Anyway, we were both working jobs with crappy schedules and even crappier pay. There were a few, shall we call, riskier months in this timeline, and lo and behold, I found out I was to have a baby in about eight months time.
Truth be told, I simply froke out. I was working at Younkers at the time, and made the mistake of calling the Sheboygan Clinic's lab for my test results from the phone at my cash register. Thank gods the store was pretty slow that day. After the massive breakdown in the lunch room, my manager sent me home for the day. Aaron was sleeping, as he had worked a third shift the night before, and I woke him with the news. He was much more cheerful about it all than I was, though he did his damnest to hide it, given my tearful response.
From there, we both changed jobs, making a schedule where one of us would always be home, therefore not paying for daycare. Neither of us knew if we were going to make enough to make ends meet, and Aaron's job was a temp job that he wasn't very happy in from the word 'go'. But we did it. To this day, we are still making it work.
We frequently say that had we "planned" having our one child, we would have thought ourselves into a corner, and she'd probably still not be here. As Autumn approaches her fourth birthday (EEK!) I can't imagine life any other way.
We took a risk not using birth control for a time. And that's a biggie that has gotten many into, shall we say, trouble. But really, we take smaller risks each day. We drive cars, cross busy streets, drop off kids at daycare, the list goes on. We also allow people into our lives, risking judgement, heartbreak, disappointment, and downright hatred.
So do you really risk more by not taking risks? SURE! I mean, if you're perfectly OK with monotony, boredom, loneliness and predictability, you may disagree. You simply risk missing out. On what? Well, get out there and find out! Don't expect the love of your life to bump into you, or that winning Powerball ticket to be lying on the ground. But maybe you'll find a restaraunt that you never noticed in town, or you'll clear your head enought to remember that one grocery item you forgot to write down. Each risk, each choice, is a small gift. Sometimes it works the way you want, other times not so much. But don't worry. Tomorrow will come soon enough. Don't rush it.
Friday, December 23, 2011
I'm feeling a little salty...
Random topic for today: 10 things I'm pessimistic about.
There is a good reason for this one. I work damn hard to keep a 'glass is half full' mentality. Some days are tougher than others, but I'm frequently in the room stating "it's all good," even when I just got a 56% on a quiz...not that that's happened recently. But I suppose it's healthy to purge your pessimistic thoughts every now and again. Here goes:
1. There are some people in this world who simply will not wake up and change for the better. I've just seen it too many times where people live in a "woe is me" life, and deep down they fucking love it. They love the attention and the "there, there's" they get, so to the point where they have to make up or dig up decades old problems to keep it coming. I'm sorry, but they will die still behaving this way.
2. I don't think I'm ever going to lose the weight I want to. I lose it in spurts, but something in me just doesn't have the willpower to stick to any one plan. There is nothing wrong with me pathologically speaking. I'm just overweight, but I'm just healthy enough to not get diabetes, high blood pressure, high colesterol, etc. Unless something like that happens, I will likely be overweight my whole life. It's just the way it is.
3. Environmentally speaking, the world needs to work harder at taking care of what we have, on a massive level. I don't think I'll see that in this lifetime. That saddens me. I'm blessed to be surrounded by people of a like mind as myself, but I still feel we are in a minority.
4. I doubt I'll ever get to see Europe in my lifetime. Touring the UK and other bits of the continent are definitely things on my bucket list. In reality, I just don't see it happening unless we win the lottery.
5. I want to learn to play guitar. OK, I technically know how to play a few things. But I would hardly call it something worthwhile. Especially since I've owned one for nearly a decade. I just don't see myself getting better than I am now.
6. In school, I'm learning about all these great holistic remedies, natural foods and simply better substances to be putting your body. I simply will never be able to get on such a granola level to make these things my whole life.
7. I will never be able to keep my car clean.
8. Human flaws on massive levels will never go away: The desire to go to war, greed, selfishness.
9. Humanity will never be truly equal. Whether it be categorized by race, gender, sexual preference, religion, anything. There will always be someone who looks down on you for one or more of those reasons, without speaking one word to you. I just don't get it.
10. This is kind of a biggie. So many people see me as someone who works hard for my friends, community and family. Always giving, etc. I'm a lot more selfish and lazy than you think. Yes, we all have human flaws, but I frequently feel like a fraud.
Maybe tomorrow will be the things I'm optimistic about. But that wouldn't be very random, would it?
There is a good reason for this one. I work damn hard to keep a 'glass is half full' mentality. Some days are tougher than others, but I'm frequently in the room stating "it's all good," even when I just got a 56% on a quiz...not that that's happened recently. But I suppose it's healthy to purge your pessimistic thoughts every now and again. Here goes:
1. There are some people in this world who simply will not wake up and change for the better. I've just seen it too many times where people live in a "woe is me" life, and deep down they fucking love it. They love the attention and the "there, there's" they get, so to the point where they have to make up or dig up decades old problems to keep it coming. I'm sorry, but they will die still behaving this way.
2. I don't think I'm ever going to lose the weight I want to. I lose it in spurts, but something in me just doesn't have the willpower to stick to any one plan. There is nothing wrong with me pathologically speaking. I'm just overweight, but I'm just healthy enough to not get diabetes, high blood pressure, high colesterol, etc. Unless something like that happens, I will likely be overweight my whole life. It's just the way it is.
3. Environmentally speaking, the world needs to work harder at taking care of what we have, on a massive level. I don't think I'll see that in this lifetime. That saddens me. I'm blessed to be surrounded by people of a like mind as myself, but I still feel we are in a minority.
4. I doubt I'll ever get to see Europe in my lifetime. Touring the UK and other bits of the continent are definitely things on my bucket list. In reality, I just don't see it happening unless we win the lottery.
5. I want to learn to play guitar. OK, I technically know how to play a few things. But I would hardly call it something worthwhile. Especially since I've owned one for nearly a decade. I just don't see myself getting better than I am now.
6. In school, I'm learning about all these great holistic remedies, natural foods and simply better substances to be putting your body. I simply will never be able to get on such a granola level to make these things my whole life.
7. I will never be able to keep my car clean.
8. Human flaws on massive levels will never go away: The desire to go to war, greed, selfishness.
9. Humanity will never be truly equal. Whether it be categorized by race, gender, sexual preference, religion, anything. There will always be someone who looks down on you for one or more of those reasons, without speaking one word to you. I just don't get it.
10. This is kind of a biggie. So many people see me as someone who works hard for my friends, community and family. Always giving, etc. I'm a lot more selfish and lazy than you think. Yes, we all have human flaws, but I frequently feel like a fraud.
Maybe tomorrow will be the things I'm optimistic about. But that wouldn't be very random, would it?
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Something New: Day 1
So, I've decided I need to find a different outlet for killing time when I'm avoiding homework, studying, cranky children, etc. Facebook, while fun, just ain't cutting it anymore. So, I'm randomly going around finding random topics to write about for just such a person as myself. I'm hoping to use this on a regular basis (whatever that means.) Allons-y!
Write a 20-line rhyming poem about something that really annoys you.
You have lost your right, don't you see?
And that right should not go to me.
But you've made up your mind,
To walk around blind,
A martyr you think you will be.
But others, they're quick to your game,
You think they are to blame.
And the children now suffer,
You think you're they're mother
My dear, it is only a name.
You prat on about doing your best,
Though the time you will not invest.
While we do your job
Even though we feel robbed,
They need a safe home to get rest.
Rest assured, we are far, far from done
And I bet you feel you have won.
We will continue to work
'Til the kids are put first
Silly girl, we've only just begun.
Not gonna lie, that one felt good.
Write a 20-line rhyming poem about something that really annoys you.
You have lost your right, don't you see?
And that right should not go to me.
But you've made up your mind,
To walk around blind,
A martyr you think you will be.
But others, they're quick to your game,
You think they are to blame.
And the children now suffer,
You think you're they're mother
My dear, it is only a name.
You prat on about doing your best,
Though the time you will not invest.
While we do your job
Even though we feel robbed,
They need a safe home to get rest.
Rest assured, we are far, far from done
And I bet you feel you have won.
We will continue to work
'Til the kids are put first
Silly girl, we've only just begun.
Not gonna lie, that one felt good.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
My letter to B3
Dear Gentlemen from B3,
Firstly, I commend you for figuring out my tattoo. I figured I'd start on a positive note. However...
I just wanted to know that I used to be like you. I used to not believe, but know that I was on the right path. I willingly participated in church activities, traveled around the country on mission trips, spreading the "Good Word." I even volunteered as a teacher for Vacation Bible School, despite having to watch Vegie Tales' "Shack, Rack and Benny" five times in a week. And it made me feel great!
But I had questions...
You see, I grew up in a very conservative town. And for most of my youth, I was OK with it. But I realized I had a brain, and it could, indeed, be used to create my own thoughts. So I used those thoughts to ask questions. But no one had answers. At least, no one had answers that made sense. My eyes opened to a world of hypocracy, hatred, and judgement. Why was is it our job to make sure everyone embraced this philosophy? That couldn't be right!
But my hometown wouldn't hear it. And it nearly killed me. You needn't know exactly how.
I learned that this one-book dogma wasn't the only way. I found a way that embraced peace and equality. Everyone had a right to find their own bliss, so long as "Ye Harm None." And by everyone, it meant literally everyone; gay, straight, Democrat, Republican, Christian or "other". This path has brought me peace, and introduced me to a community that loves me for me, including my husband. I agree that we should "do unto others", not kill, not steal and so on. I agree that children should obey their parents. However, we parents aren't always perfect. Heck, I even waited until after marriage to have a child. And I am dedicated to said marriage. Just. Like. You.
So, you came in today. I find it ironic that you came in on a Sunday. You won't cook or clean today, but it's OK for us heathens to do the work for you. But I digress. I observed you saying grace, and I waited to bring out your last pizza. I heard you speak of the church, and I kept quiet, continuing to serve your table with a genuine smile. When I complimented your children's behavior, I did so because as a parent, I appreciate a little pat on the back for a job well done. I figured I'd pass one on to you. I wished to share a moment as a fellow parent, not to open the door for a lecture. I tried to give credit to parents who have the time and patience to raise well-behaved children, but you had already set sights on your primary objective. I tried to tell you that I, too, have amazing children, but you wouldn't so much as let me finish that sentance.
While you said Grace and spoke of your church, I granted you the respect all people deserve. I did not inturrupt your prayer nor declare my feelings against the church. All I request in return is for the respect to be handed back, not a fake "Million Dollar" bill. Instead, I was judged, and reminded a time that gave me great pain. You have the right to worship as you choose, but you do NOT have the right to dig up painful memories. You do NOT have the right to create discomfort in my workplace. And you do NOT have the right to look at four words permanantly inked on my forearm and assume what kind of person I am. It took me a decade to find solid footing, and I will NOT let it quake because of the likes of you!
By the way, that $12 tip you gave was spent at a coffee shop owned by a lesbian couple, one of which is Pagan.
To my Christian friends who may have been upset by anything written above, just know that this is not directed at you. If we be friends, then we have accepted each others differences and coexist in peace, which is all I have ever asked of the world. It's a shame that the Christians I associate myself with get misrepresented by the men I wrote to in this letter. Blessings to you all.
Firstly, I commend you for figuring out my tattoo. I figured I'd start on a positive note. However...
I just wanted to know that I used to be like you. I used to not believe, but know that I was on the right path. I willingly participated in church activities, traveled around the country on mission trips, spreading the "Good Word." I even volunteered as a teacher for Vacation Bible School, despite having to watch Vegie Tales' "Shack, Rack and Benny" five times in a week. And it made me feel great!
But I had questions...
You see, I grew up in a very conservative town. And for most of my youth, I was OK with it. But I realized I had a brain, and it could, indeed, be used to create my own thoughts. So I used those thoughts to ask questions. But no one had answers. At least, no one had answers that made sense. My eyes opened to a world of hypocracy, hatred, and judgement. Why was is it our job to make sure everyone embraced this philosophy? That couldn't be right!
But my hometown wouldn't hear it. And it nearly killed me. You needn't know exactly how.
I learned that this one-book dogma wasn't the only way. I found a way that embraced peace and equality. Everyone had a right to find their own bliss, so long as "Ye Harm None." And by everyone, it meant literally everyone; gay, straight, Democrat, Republican, Christian or "other". This path has brought me peace, and introduced me to a community that loves me for me, including my husband. I agree that we should "do unto others", not kill, not steal and so on. I agree that children should obey their parents. However, we parents aren't always perfect. Heck, I even waited until after marriage to have a child. And I am dedicated to said marriage. Just. Like. You.
So, you came in today. I find it ironic that you came in on a Sunday. You won't cook or clean today, but it's OK for us heathens to do the work for you. But I digress. I observed you saying grace, and I waited to bring out your last pizza. I heard you speak of the church, and I kept quiet, continuing to serve your table with a genuine smile. When I complimented your children's behavior, I did so because as a parent, I appreciate a little pat on the back for a job well done. I figured I'd pass one on to you. I wished to share a moment as a fellow parent, not to open the door for a lecture. I tried to give credit to parents who have the time and patience to raise well-behaved children, but you had already set sights on your primary objective. I tried to tell you that I, too, have amazing children, but you wouldn't so much as let me finish that sentance.
While you said Grace and spoke of your church, I granted you the respect all people deserve. I did not inturrupt your prayer nor declare my feelings against the church. All I request in return is for the respect to be handed back, not a fake "Million Dollar" bill. Instead, I was judged, and reminded a time that gave me great pain. You have the right to worship as you choose, but you do NOT have the right to dig up painful memories. You do NOT have the right to create discomfort in my workplace. And you do NOT have the right to look at four words permanantly inked on my forearm and assume what kind of person I am. It took me a decade to find solid footing, and I will NOT let it quake because of the likes of you!
By the way, that $12 tip you gave was spent at a coffee shop owned by a lesbian couple, one of which is Pagan.
To my Christian friends who may have been upset by anything written above, just know that this is not directed at you. If we be friends, then we have accepted each others differences and coexist in peace, which is all I have ever asked of the world. It's a shame that the Christians I associate myself with get misrepresented by the men I wrote to in this letter. Blessings to you all.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Magick in the Mundane: My Story of a Hero Called Bronwen
Sunday night, I passed out on the love seat watching DVR'ed shows with my husband, as I frequently do. I was woken up to a sobbing husband at the computer, about six feet away, with the words, "Andrea! It's Bronwen!" Jumping up to the computer, I saw Aaron had his Facebook account on the screen, and on Bronwen Forbes' wall one of the two status' showing read, "Bronwen is dead." Twenty minutes later, a second status was posted explaining that my dear friend and long-distance mentor had passed away about an hour ago from a heart attack induced by the chemo she had been receiving to treat breast cancer.
Anger. Downright anger is the first thing I could feel through the tears. As my husband and I embraced, all I could do is cry out, "This is bullshit!" and "This is NOT how this was supposed to happen!" What the fuck kind of a world do we live in where the very thing that was meant to help you is what cuts your thread too short? It would have almost felt better if the cancer would have just taken over and the doctors would work to make her last months more comfortable. Almost. At least there would be a chance at a proper goodbye.
We chatted last week via Facebook. I finally had the chance to tell her that the Pagan discussion group I am heavily involved with had been using the events we coordinate to raise funds for the National Breast Cancer Foundation. Bronwen is a published author, and we wanted to sell her books at our events as well, so I went to her asking for the best channel to make this happen. I also let her know that I was finally putting together my application to attend massage therapy school. Having been a recent student in Wisconsin herself, I probed her for help on the financial aid side of the process. The closing of our conversation went like this; "I think about you guys often, and miss you SO MUCH! Maybe next year when I'm better I can come up for the event -- you're only about 6 hours away. p.s. I think you will make an awesome massage therapist. Our local cancer support center offers free massages to people in treatment."
I begrudged myself for a while, frustrated that our last conversation was pretty much about money. I was quickly corrected in realizing that the conversation was really about transformation and taking on a new chapter in my life. "Find the magick in the mundane," I was told. I now agree.
'Hero' was never really a word I thought to use to describe Bronwen. There is a long list of adjectives out there, not the least of which would be wise, witty and caring. We both share a love of writing, though I don't spend nearly enough time showing it. We love dogs, though I wish I had more time for the one I have. We both love to teach, though I'm working on learning more that I eventually can share with others. And we both take extreme pride in our families. She was basically where I could be if I started to use my time more wisely.
There are plenty of women out there with these qualities, I'm sure, but what makes her my hero? It was despite the fact that she knew so much and that she had been so much further down the path than many of the people she knew, she never acted like it. Bronwen never once laughed at how little I knew about some of the topics "Good Little Pagans" should know. She never belittled me for my immature stints, despite being nearly my mother's age, nor did she criticize me for how I handled various personal situations, even if she didn't wholly agree. In fact, she helped me learn to just shut up and follow my gut. She had faith in me, which gave me confidence.
The Thursday night before her passing, it was the night of our bi-weekly discussion group; ESP (the Eclectic Sheboygan Pagans). We basically had a divination show-and-tell, where everyone brought their favorite divination tools, from Tarot cards to pendulums to runes. One woman in the group had brought her pendulum, with a cloth to be laid below on the table. The cloth had Magic 8 Ball-style answers like "Yes" on the left and right, "No" at the top and bottom, and varying things like "Rephrase Question" at the corners. The point of the cloth was to let the pendulum swing in whichever direction to answer your questions.
I started with questions regarding my potential options for massage therapy school. Throughout the session, the pendulum shook in very odd ways. You could clearly see her hand was very steady, and she gave her arm extra support with the opposite hand. Eventually, the woman doing the reading said she felt someone standing behind her. It was a warm feminine presence. My first instinct was to start asking if it was one of a small handful of women who have passed that I was close to. Each option was met with a "No". Another person in the group observing said, "Maybe it's someone who's not dead." Instantly, I blurted, "Bronwen, are you sleeping?!" Yes. The pendulum changed from an up/down motion to left/right.
At that point the woman doing the reading needed to put her hand down. She said that she felt a hand touching her right shoulder, and you could physically feel that side was warmer than the left. That night, while discussing the experience with Aaron, I explained that it was very cool and all, but divination is far from an absolute. Maybe it was Bronwen, maybe it wasn't. You may be reading this, thinking it's all a lot of hooey. I have no intention of changing your mind. But I'm going to follow the advice of a wise woman. Shut up and follow my gut. It was her.
I actually wanted to send her a Facebook message to see what her Thursday night felt like. I never got to it. To say I don't regret that fact would be a total lie. I haven't wasted much energy on this regret, but it's there.
The handful of friends in Wisconsin who had the honor of knowing Bronwen have been coping in their own way. My anger has finally waned, so I've moved on to being productive in my mourning. As I previously mentioned, she loved to write and teach, so during an unemployed phase around the time of her leaving Wisconsin, she wrote a series of essays for the popular Pagan website The Witches' Voice. I found that you can search for essays by author, and am working on compiling them into a booklet, not only for memorial purposes, but for my own education. There was some good stuff in there, and it would be a damn shame to let that knowledge go to waste. I found great joy in the fact that chronologically speaking, the first essay was of one of my favorite early-learning tales, involving nearly burning the house down.
I have every intention of following through on my plans to sell Bronwen's books at our events, as well as raise funds for breast cancer research. I am honored by the fact that Bronwen's last book, 'The Small-Town Pagan's Survival Guide: How to Thrive in Any Community' (set to be released in June) may have snippets of an interview with me in it. I had heard about the plans to write this book while she lived in Wisconsin, and she asked me to do an over-the-phone interview after moving to Missouri. Even if I'm not in there, it's an honor to know that she had something to learn from me. I have a few other things up my sleeve to keep Bronwen's memory alive, and they will come eventually.
There are few people in this world I strive to be like, namely my father and grandmother. They both have qualities I admire and try to remember on a daily basis. However, Bronwen is a person I see myself striving to be like as completely as possible...without getting to creepy about it. I can see her modestly lowering her head with honor and thanks. And chuckling through a tear or two about the "creepy" comment. She gave the best bear hugs. Ever. And I am grateful, blessed and honored to have been part of her life.
Anger. Downright anger is the first thing I could feel through the tears. As my husband and I embraced, all I could do is cry out, "This is bullshit!" and "This is NOT how this was supposed to happen!" What the fuck kind of a world do we live in where the very thing that was meant to help you is what cuts your thread too short? It would have almost felt better if the cancer would have just taken over and the doctors would work to make her last months more comfortable. Almost. At least there would be a chance at a proper goodbye.
We chatted last week via Facebook. I finally had the chance to tell her that the Pagan discussion group I am heavily involved with had been using the events we coordinate to raise funds for the National Breast Cancer Foundation. Bronwen is a published author, and we wanted to sell her books at our events as well, so I went to her asking for the best channel to make this happen. I also let her know that I was finally putting together my application to attend massage therapy school. Having been a recent student in Wisconsin herself, I probed her for help on the financial aid side of the process. The closing of our conversation went like this; "I think about you guys often, and miss you SO MUCH! Maybe next year when I'm better I can come up for the event -- you're only about 6 hours away. p.s. I think you will make an awesome massage therapist. Our local cancer support center offers free massages to people in treatment."
I begrudged myself for a while, frustrated that our last conversation was pretty much about money. I was quickly corrected in realizing that the conversation was really about transformation and taking on a new chapter in my life. "Find the magick in the mundane," I was told. I now agree.
'Hero' was never really a word I thought to use to describe Bronwen. There is a long list of adjectives out there, not the least of which would be wise, witty and caring. We both share a love of writing, though I don't spend nearly enough time showing it. We love dogs, though I wish I had more time for the one I have. We both love to teach, though I'm working on learning more that I eventually can share with others. And we both take extreme pride in our families. She was basically where I could be if I started to use my time more wisely.
There are plenty of women out there with these qualities, I'm sure, but what makes her my hero? It was despite the fact that she knew so much and that she had been so much further down the path than many of the people she knew, she never acted like it. Bronwen never once laughed at how little I knew about some of the topics "Good Little Pagans" should know. She never belittled me for my immature stints, despite being nearly my mother's age, nor did she criticize me for how I handled various personal situations, even if she didn't wholly agree. In fact, she helped me learn to just shut up and follow my gut. She had faith in me, which gave me confidence.
The Thursday night before her passing, it was the night of our bi-weekly discussion group; ESP (the Eclectic Sheboygan Pagans). We basically had a divination show-and-tell, where everyone brought their favorite divination tools, from Tarot cards to pendulums to runes. One woman in the group had brought her pendulum, with a cloth to be laid below on the table. The cloth had Magic 8 Ball-style answers like "Yes" on the left and right, "No" at the top and bottom, and varying things like "Rephrase Question" at the corners. The point of the cloth was to let the pendulum swing in whichever direction to answer your questions.
I started with questions regarding my potential options for massage therapy school. Throughout the session, the pendulum shook in very odd ways. You could clearly see her hand was very steady, and she gave her arm extra support with the opposite hand. Eventually, the woman doing the reading said she felt someone standing behind her. It was a warm feminine presence. My first instinct was to start asking if it was one of a small handful of women who have passed that I was close to. Each option was met with a "No". Another person in the group observing said, "Maybe it's someone who's not dead." Instantly, I blurted, "Bronwen, are you sleeping?!" Yes. The pendulum changed from an up/down motion to left/right.
At that point the woman doing the reading needed to put her hand down. She said that she felt a hand touching her right shoulder, and you could physically feel that side was warmer than the left. That night, while discussing the experience with Aaron, I explained that it was very cool and all, but divination is far from an absolute. Maybe it was Bronwen, maybe it wasn't. You may be reading this, thinking it's all a lot of hooey. I have no intention of changing your mind. But I'm going to follow the advice of a wise woman. Shut up and follow my gut. It was her.
I actually wanted to send her a Facebook message to see what her Thursday night felt like. I never got to it. To say I don't regret that fact would be a total lie. I haven't wasted much energy on this regret, but it's there.
The handful of friends in Wisconsin who had the honor of knowing Bronwen have been coping in their own way. My anger has finally waned, so I've moved on to being productive in my mourning. As I previously mentioned, she loved to write and teach, so during an unemployed phase around the time of her leaving Wisconsin, she wrote a series of essays for the popular Pagan website The Witches' Voice. I found that you can search for essays by author, and am working on compiling them into a booklet, not only for memorial purposes, but for my own education. There was some good stuff in there, and it would be a damn shame to let that knowledge go to waste. I found great joy in the fact that chronologically speaking, the first essay was of one of my favorite early-learning tales, involving nearly burning the house down.
I have every intention of following through on my plans to sell Bronwen's books at our events, as well as raise funds for breast cancer research. I am honored by the fact that Bronwen's last book, 'The Small-Town Pagan's Survival Guide: How to Thrive in Any Community' (set to be released in June) may have snippets of an interview with me in it. I had heard about the plans to write this book while she lived in Wisconsin, and she asked me to do an over-the-phone interview after moving to Missouri. Even if I'm not in there, it's an honor to know that she had something to learn from me. I have a few other things up my sleeve to keep Bronwen's memory alive, and they will come eventually.
There are few people in this world I strive to be like, namely my father and grandmother. They both have qualities I admire and try to remember on a daily basis. However, Bronwen is a person I see myself striving to be like as completely as possible...without getting to creepy about it. I can see her modestly lowering her head with honor and thanks. And chuckling through a tear or two about the "creepy" comment. She gave the best bear hugs. Ever. And I am grateful, blessed and honored to have been part of her life.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Might as well
Hi, my name is Andrea Covey, and it's been six months since my last blog post.
I really don't know why I don't write more often. And I damn well have no excuse for not writing while somehow on the computer. I mean, I spend enough time sitting in this computer chair that I don't know why I haven't invested in a new, more comfortable chair...but I digress.
I can't say life sucks. It doesn't...usually. I have amazing friends and an incredible family who's always got our back. But in the past months we have struggled how to handle custody of my stepsons, as they are being tossed around like a hackey sack at the whims of a "woe is me" martyr of a mother, full with child, when she can't afford the first two. That's the short, short, short version. A dear friend who moved from Wisconsin just over a year ago is battling breast cancer, another dear friend recently moved out of state, also for job reasons, a third is in the midst of a family hailstorm involving a mentally unstable sister and three children being held in Mexico, and the political climate in the state of Wisconsin is a down right disaster. None of these things can I control with a push of a button, and it's maddening.
I don't have control issues. At least, I'm pretty sure I don't. But I'm also of the mindset that if you don't get off of your duff and do something about the problems around you, you have no right to complain. Of course, I have no control over friends moving away, and I do not hold the cure to Cancer. I cannot speed up the process of the Mexican government, nor can I bitch slap some sense into Scott Walker, though many of my good friends would like to have a go at it.
Which leaves the situation with the boys. I could write a novel depicting in great detail what this school year has been like for Darren, Michael, Aaron and myself. I won't. Let's just say that Jim Morrison was right. "The time to hesitate is through."
Believe it or not, some good has come of the last few months. Autumn continues to grow and thrive, three-year-old attitude and all. ESP - The Eclectic Sheboygan Pagans - has found a new home for meetings which is proving to be a much-needed change. I'm just on the verge of getting my shit together so I may go back to school in August to be a masssage therapist, though it's an intimidating concept. I have also been dedicated into Her Cauldron coven, and I am loving every minute of it. The women in the coven are amazing, one of which is my half-sister by blood, but we're all sisters as far as we're concerned.
I love my life, and I really strive to remind myself of that fact on a daily basis. I constantly remind myself that other people's problems belong to them, and no one else. I am not to take them on as my own. Though if they need a shoulder to cry on, an ear to scream at, or even just a cup of coffee delivered because they're in pain from a spill on the ice, I'm right there. It's what I do. It's one of my many purposes in life, and I'll be damned if I let anyone or anything get in the way of that purpose. I am a Mother, Wife, Sister and a Friend. I've earned these titles, they were not just handed over, and I will continue to honor the privilage of these titles, by any means neccessary.
I really don't know why I don't write more often. And I damn well have no excuse for not writing while somehow on the computer. I mean, I spend enough time sitting in this computer chair that I don't know why I haven't invested in a new, more comfortable chair...but I digress.
I can't say life sucks. It doesn't...usually. I have amazing friends and an incredible family who's always got our back. But in the past months we have struggled how to handle custody of my stepsons, as they are being tossed around like a hackey sack at the whims of a "woe is me" martyr of a mother, full with child, when she can't afford the first two. That's the short, short, short version. A dear friend who moved from Wisconsin just over a year ago is battling breast cancer, another dear friend recently moved out of state, also for job reasons, a third is in the midst of a family hailstorm involving a mentally unstable sister and three children being held in Mexico, and the political climate in the state of Wisconsin is a down right disaster. None of these things can I control with a push of a button, and it's maddening.
I don't have control issues. At least, I'm pretty sure I don't. But I'm also of the mindset that if you don't get off of your duff and do something about the problems around you, you have no right to complain. Of course, I have no control over friends moving away, and I do not hold the cure to Cancer. I cannot speed up the process of the Mexican government, nor can I bitch slap some sense into Scott Walker, though many of my good friends would like to have a go at it.
Which leaves the situation with the boys. I could write a novel depicting in great detail what this school year has been like for Darren, Michael, Aaron and myself. I won't. Let's just say that Jim Morrison was right. "The time to hesitate is through."
Believe it or not, some good has come of the last few months. Autumn continues to grow and thrive, three-year-old attitude and all. ESP - The Eclectic Sheboygan Pagans - has found a new home for meetings which is proving to be a much-needed change. I'm just on the verge of getting my shit together so I may go back to school in August to be a masssage therapist, though it's an intimidating concept. I have also been dedicated into Her Cauldron coven, and I am loving every minute of it. The women in the coven are amazing, one of which is my half-sister by blood, but we're all sisters as far as we're concerned.
I love my life, and I really strive to remind myself of that fact on a daily basis. I constantly remind myself that other people's problems belong to them, and no one else. I am not to take them on as my own. Though if they need a shoulder to cry on, an ear to scream at, or even just a cup of coffee delivered because they're in pain from a spill on the ice, I'm right there. It's what I do. It's one of my many purposes in life, and I'll be damned if I let anyone or anything get in the way of that purpose. I am a Mother, Wife, Sister and a Friend. I've earned these titles, they were not just handed over, and I will continue to honor the privilage of these titles, by any means neccessary.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Class Reunion...In Reality
So, briefly said, I sucked it up and attended the last few hours of my 10 year reunion, much to the request of a dear - and highly inebriated - friend. What the heck? Free beer, right?
I walked in, and upon scanning the fifty or so faces in the room, I didn't see a single one I felt all that comfortable approaching. It was quickly concluded that the above-mentioned friend was in the mens' room...potentially "making more room" for beer.
A small round table surrounded by five female classmates shared polite hello's. One of the gals at this table I would have never called close, but we got along well, as did our brothers, and she greeted me with a hug. OK, ice breaker...check. She and I exchanged the basic info...kids, job, home, etc. Then moved on. Aaron and I played wallflowers for another minute or two, scanning the room once again, until above-mentioned friend managed his way out of the mens room. I finally relaxed at this point.
It was pointed out to me that liberals still made a great minority in the group. The lack of shock balanced out the level of funny. There was a great many people I never had the chance to say a word to, and I'm pretty OK with that.
At one point, there was some drunken discussion about a class orgy, and at the 15 year reunion we could bring all the 5 year olds and play "who's your daddy?" The friend who started this conversation is a classic freckled redhead, so you can imagine the jokes that wrote themselves. Thankfully, I've come to learn that this man's wife is one of the coolest people ever.
Throughout the night, a few more people approached Aaron and I, some of which I expected, others I was pleasantly surprised by. Aaron managed to connect with a classmates boyfriend, which is good since I kept accidentally ditching him. (Thanks for taking it stride, sweetie!) Much of my cynicism went away once I was asked this question; "Well, are you happy?" Which I met with a resounding "Hell yeah!" "Well, that's all you need, then."
The night closed with a very tipsy, yet very sweet compliment. I know he's reading this blog, so he knows what was said. (You do remember, right?) To those who took the time for me Sunday night, both expected and not, thank you. There is hope for this world yet.
I walked in, and upon scanning the fifty or so faces in the room, I didn't see a single one I felt all that comfortable approaching. It was quickly concluded that the above-mentioned friend was in the mens' room...potentially "making more room" for beer.
A small round table surrounded by five female classmates shared polite hello's. One of the gals at this table I would have never called close, but we got along well, as did our brothers, and she greeted me with a hug. OK, ice breaker...check. She and I exchanged the basic info...kids, job, home, etc. Then moved on. Aaron and I played wallflowers for another minute or two, scanning the room once again, until above-mentioned friend managed his way out of the mens room. I finally relaxed at this point.
It was pointed out to me that liberals still made a great minority in the group. The lack of shock balanced out the level of funny. There was a great many people I never had the chance to say a word to, and I'm pretty OK with that.
At one point, there was some drunken discussion about a class orgy, and at the 15 year reunion we could bring all the 5 year olds and play "who's your daddy?" The friend who started this conversation is a classic freckled redhead, so you can imagine the jokes that wrote themselves. Thankfully, I've come to learn that this man's wife is one of the coolest people ever.
Throughout the night, a few more people approached Aaron and I, some of which I expected, others I was pleasantly surprised by. Aaron managed to connect with a classmates boyfriend, which is good since I kept accidentally ditching him. (Thanks for taking it stride, sweetie!) Much of my cynicism went away once I was asked this question; "Well, are you happy?" Which I met with a resounding "Hell yeah!" "Well, that's all you need, then."
The night closed with a very tipsy, yet very sweet compliment. I know he's reading this blog, so he knows what was said. (You do remember, right?) To those who took the time for me Sunday night, both expected and not, thank you. There is hope for this world yet.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
The Class Reunion...in my head
My ten-year class reunion is coming up this weekend, and straight up, I won't be there. The decision had been debated for months before a date was even set, but having to work that night pretty much sealed the deal. Disappointed? Not really. Curious? Hell yeah.
I graduated with approximately 80 people, a hearty sized class for Oostburg High. But the people in my graduating class who genuinely gave a damn about me, and took time out of their life to show me, the number is somewhere in the single digits.
On the other side of the coin, I'm damn proud of where I am today. I'm happily married with one kick-ass daughter and two stepsons that, while I occasionally would like to send them to Mars, are two guys I am genuinely proud of. I'm proud of what I have done for the community, whether it be Earthfest, being involved politically, and even helping a minority religion thrive in Sheboygan. I love my life, end of story. Would I like to rub it in a few faces? Hell yeah!
But I'm not convinced they would see it that way. I am back at Pizza Hut. I'm still fat (or shall we say, "fluffy"). I don't have tons of money or a newer car. To me, these things don't matter. But all my hard work isn't what the status quo says it takes to be successful.
There's another thing hanging out there. There was one classmate who was about as much of an outcast as one could be. He made himself that way, and he knew it. He wasn't out to make friends. If you were one of the few who didn't piss him off, you were alright. He idolized Andy Kaufman (look him up, it explains a lot), wore an "I'm with Stupid" shirt for our senior group picture - fashioned from a Hanes white tee and a Sharpie marker - and he attempted to interview people at the school entrance with an old tape recorder. What many don't know, he was a huge success in his efforts with the OHS theatre, both on and off stage. He was nominated for student of the month two or three times, each time being denied by our former gym teacher principal. I was one of the few who didn't piss him off.
Over the last two years or so, we stayed in scattered contact via email while he wandered the planet. Upon a return trip to Wisconsin, he asked to meet up with me to show me something from high school that would "show some insight about our classmates." During Junior and Senior years, he put a box in our history teacher's classroom which was for "Suggestions for ______". When you put yourself out there like this, and happen to be the class outcast, there is some preparation that needs to be made. But the level of cruelty is reminiscent of what likely caused the Columbine shooting and many like it.
This man handed me an envelope filled with folded up pieces of ten year old notebook paper, and what I read was beyond words. "I'd rather die than be a freak like you," was the one that cut the deepest. And according to him, this was merely a taste.
So, why dig up old dirt? People change, right? Well, sort of. I'm a believer that anyone can change...if they want or feel they need to. In reality, most people become a more grown-up version of what they were in high school. A version with more responsibilities but more opportunity to be what they are. And they're generally OK with that. This rings true for me. By the time I graduated, I knew the winds of change were blowing, I just had no clue what they were telling me. Clarity brought me to the self I am now. The slackers find jobs that pay the bills, but bear minimal responsibility. The over-achievers use their college degrees for their career, and deservedly earn the fruits of their labor, but still tend to bear that "I'm a step above many" mentality, though they keep it filtered and tucked back. The list goes on.
I don't believe the people who wrote these horrible things would do so again if given the chance. But it's not to say they wouldn't think along those lines. It becomes a passing thought, you scoff to yourself, and you move on. That's the mature version of what happened ten years ago.
All I really want to know is, has anyone really figured it out? Would these people genuinely regret what they said/wrote. Of course they would, if you told them it nearly lead to self-inflicted gunshot wounds (which it did). Gods forbid you have that on your conscience! But if you showed someone what they wrote ten years ago, would they really regret it, with nothing but their own feelings to work with? I'm not convinced. Forgive me for my cynicism, but I'm waiting to be proven wrong. Perhaps at our 20th...
I graduated with approximately 80 people, a hearty sized class for Oostburg High. But the people in my graduating class who genuinely gave a damn about me, and took time out of their life to show me, the number is somewhere in the single digits.
On the other side of the coin, I'm damn proud of where I am today. I'm happily married with one kick-ass daughter and two stepsons that, while I occasionally would like to send them to Mars, are two guys I am genuinely proud of. I'm proud of what I have done for the community, whether it be Earthfest, being involved politically, and even helping a minority religion thrive in Sheboygan. I love my life, end of story. Would I like to rub it in a few faces? Hell yeah!
But I'm not convinced they would see it that way. I am back at Pizza Hut. I'm still fat (or shall we say, "fluffy"). I don't have tons of money or a newer car. To me, these things don't matter. But all my hard work isn't what the status quo says it takes to be successful.
There's another thing hanging out there. There was one classmate who was about as much of an outcast as one could be. He made himself that way, and he knew it. He wasn't out to make friends. If you were one of the few who didn't piss him off, you were alright. He idolized Andy Kaufman (look him up, it explains a lot), wore an "I'm with Stupid" shirt for our senior group picture - fashioned from a Hanes white tee and a Sharpie marker - and he attempted to interview people at the school entrance with an old tape recorder. What many don't know, he was a huge success in his efforts with the OHS theatre, both on and off stage. He was nominated for student of the month two or three times, each time being denied by our former gym teacher principal. I was one of the few who didn't piss him off.
Over the last two years or so, we stayed in scattered contact via email while he wandered the planet. Upon a return trip to Wisconsin, he asked to meet up with me to show me something from high school that would "show some insight about our classmates." During Junior and Senior years, he put a box in our history teacher's classroom which was for "Suggestions for ______". When you put yourself out there like this, and happen to be the class outcast, there is some preparation that needs to be made. But the level of cruelty is reminiscent of what likely caused the Columbine shooting and many like it.
This man handed me an envelope filled with folded up pieces of ten year old notebook paper, and what I read was beyond words. "I'd rather die than be a freak like you," was the one that cut the deepest. And according to him, this was merely a taste.
So, why dig up old dirt? People change, right? Well, sort of. I'm a believer that anyone can change...if they want or feel they need to. In reality, most people become a more grown-up version of what they were in high school. A version with more responsibilities but more opportunity to be what they are. And they're generally OK with that. This rings true for me. By the time I graduated, I knew the winds of change were blowing, I just had no clue what they were telling me. Clarity brought me to the self I am now. The slackers find jobs that pay the bills, but bear minimal responsibility. The over-achievers use their college degrees for their career, and deservedly earn the fruits of their labor, but still tend to bear that "I'm a step above many" mentality, though they keep it filtered and tucked back. The list goes on.
I don't believe the people who wrote these horrible things would do so again if given the chance. But it's not to say they wouldn't think along those lines. It becomes a passing thought, you scoff to yourself, and you move on. That's the mature version of what happened ten years ago.
All I really want to know is, has anyone really figured it out? Would these people genuinely regret what they said/wrote. Of course they would, if you told them it nearly lead to self-inflicted gunshot wounds (which it did). Gods forbid you have that on your conscience! But if you showed someone what they wrote ten years ago, would they really regret it, with nothing but their own feelings to work with? I'm not convinced. Forgive me for my cynicism, but I'm waiting to be proven wrong. Perhaps at our 20th...
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
"Does this make me look like an ass?" A lesson in filtered friendships
From working in retail and food service, to attempting high-maintenance friendships, I've come across a wide variety of complainers, drama queens and "victims". They're at your workplace, school, social gatherings, everywhere. You can't avoid them. In some cases, you may even feel the need to "fix" them, sans-PHD.
But not all complainers come in one neat little package. There's a wide array I've encountered, and with each new venture, I've found a new way to deal with it. In most cases, the relationship ends. In reality, I'm a "fixer" until this person starts taking more of my energy than my own kids. I've got one success story, but you'll have to go to the end to find out who.
"The glass is half full...of Arsenic!"
"Well I just looooove everything! Especially ME!" - The Tyra Complex
I wouldn't put these folks under a 'complainer' status, but they can be mixed with several of the other levels of "victim"/drama queen.
Say you're out to dinner with an "Arsenic" person. They asked for their steak medium-well, and they receive a medium-rare. To ask the server to have steak cooked a while longer is fair, with a certain level of tact and respect. But, the conversation turns to, "You know, eating a steak that isn't properly cooked can KILL you!" This is the remainder of the evening's conversation. You now have an Arsenic/Tyra on your hands. You poor bastard.
Straight-up Tyra's are simply called narcissistic. As Eddie Izzard stated, a narcissist is pretty much someone who stands in front of the mirror and says, "God, I'd love to have sex with myself." If you choose to befriend a Tyra, you should either be A) Quiet. B) Also a Tyra. If you fall in-between A and B, you're screwed. Get new friends.
"Nobody's done a damn thing for me. Why should I bother?"
These are the toughest nuts to crack. You get the complete package with a "Why should I bother?" This person has been "victimized" from birth, they exaggerate their level of persecution, and they refuse to shut up about it. An added bonus; they can't keep track of who they told which exaggeration to.
"Tinkerbell is my homegirl."
Basically, these people don't have much going for them, so they need to create this world where they have friends and power to feel valuable. I've managed to tolerate these folks by simply patting them on the back saying "Ok, sweetie. Have fun with that."
"I've got baggage, but I'm a bellhop, so it's cool."
Baggage does not a "victim" make. With a Bellhop, desire to change must come from within. Often times they've gone through phases of Arsenic, Tyra, Why, and even Tinkerbell. But they remained phases that were needed to develop into a whole person. Baggage can be left behind when a person is ready. Or, they can open it, take out what doesn't serve them, and put the rest in storage. These people, while they accept their fate, also acknowledge life is worth living, and lugging shit around will just slow it down.
In all of the above cases, no one can fix a person but themselves. If you want to take someone on, you have my blessing, whatever my blessing is worth to you. Many simply don't want to be fixed, or they're in such deep denial they don't think they need outside assistance. They may be happy where they're at, whatever their definition of happy may be. All I can say is, it takes all kinds to make the world turn.
But not all complainers come in one neat little package. There's a wide array I've encountered, and with each new venture, I've found a new way to deal with it. In most cases, the relationship ends. In reality, I'm a "fixer" until this person starts taking more of my energy than my own kids. I've got one success story, but you'll have to go to the end to find out who.
"The glass is half full...of Arsenic!"These people are tricky. You don't know what you're in for until they've got you tied up by your toenails. They come off as pretty level headed. You can generally get along with them at work in small doses because, sure, we all have bad days. But when you delve into their personal life, you realize, "They're all out to get you." Conspiracy theorists and divorcees often fall under this category. Mention of "Big Brother" is a dead-giveaway. Or, "The ex needs money for the kids' new shoes, but I'm sure he'll just buy something stupid," is a frequent conversation starter.
Overall, these people are relatively harmless. They spew, rant and rave, but they're pretty good at keeping it in the right place at the right time, if such a thing exists. I've maintained relationships with these people because I make a point to not spend more than an hour one-on-one with these people. A few hours in a group setting is relatively harmless, unless they're a Tyra. Read on.
I wouldn't put these folks under a 'complainer' status, but they can be mixed with several of the other levels of "victim"/drama queen.
Say you're out to dinner with an "Arsenic" person. They asked for their steak medium-well, and they receive a medium-rare. To ask the server to have steak cooked a while longer is fair, with a certain level of tact and respect. But, the conversation turns to, "You know, eating a steak that isn't properly cooked can KILL you!" This is the remainder of the evening's conversation. You now have an Arsenic/Tyra on your hands. You poor bastard.
Straight-up Tyra's are simply called narcissistic. As Eddie Izzard stated, a narcissist is pretty much someone who stands in front of the mirror and says, "God, I'd love to have sex with myself." If you choose to befriend a Tyra, you should either be A) Quiet. B) Also a Tyra. If you fall in-between A and B, you're screwed. Get new friends.
"Nobody's done a damn thing for me. Why should I bother?"
These are the toughest nuts to crack. You get the complete package with a "Why should I bother?" This person has been "victimized" from birth, they exaggerate their level of persecution, and they refuse to shut up about it. An added bonus; they can't keep track of who they told which exaggeration to. While these people seem to be the worst energy-vampires, they've seemed to be the most common in my adult life. I feel like Lucy from the Peanuts gang sitting in my booth. The most recent case I've encountered was actually a combo Arsenic/Tyra/Victim. She had a rough childhood, she's on federal assistance which is constantly out to screw her, and damned if we weren't going to go an hour without hearing about it. My current circle of level-headed, fabulous friends took her in, and she pretty much made her rounds until everyone was exhausted. Concerns were discussed and it was determined we needed a break, and she voluntarily left. Months later she returned, apparently developing a bout of amnesia of the previous discussions, and much to her shock, we were "all talking shit about her behind her back". This person has no desire, correction, she doesn't think she needs any changes in her mental situation. We tried, we gave her a second chance, and it is done. If you have a PHD in psychology, have at. If not, run. Period.
"Tinkerbell is my homegirl."These people are simply a hoot. But it sucks to have to rely on them. These people live in a fantasy world, where fiction is fact. "No, really, Robert Pattinson and I are BFF's! He friend-ed me on Facebook!" *face-palm*
These people manage to slip through the cracks as healthy, sane people. They obtain positions of leadership, then their fantasy world comes out. Now, we all have our own interests and hobbies outside of the workplace, and I won't stop anyone from having them. Even if you like - epic sigh - Twilight. But you tend to lose respect of your peers when you're in your thirties truly believing every celebrity you "friend" on FaceCrack is a genuine friend. You also lose a bit of credibility when you're weeping over your dying grandmother when she's been sick since you were learning the multiplication table. (Rest in peace, Grandma.)
Basically, these people don't have much going for them, so they need to create this world where they have friends and power to feel valuable. I've managed to tolerate these folks by simply patting them on the back saying "Ok, sweetie. Have fun with that."
"I've got baggage, but I'm a bellhop, so it's cool."Lots of people come with baggage. It's how one builds character. It's how you handle that baggage that determines your level of drama. Here comes my success story.
A gentleman came into my life via karaoke about eight years ago. We knew a lot of the same people in town (duh, it's Sheboygan), he was recently divorced with two children, and quite honestly, he wasn't a very good parent, or spouse for that matter. We built a relationship with plenty of ups and downs, battled trust issues, etc. He accepted several flaws, many of which involved his kids, some of which involved relationships with the opposite sex, and we now have a happy marriage.
Baggage does not a "victim" make. With a Bellhop, desire to change must come from within. Often times they've gone through phases of Arsenic, Tyra, Why, and even Tinkerbell. But they remained phases that were needed to develop into a whole person. Baggage can be left behind when a person is ready. Or, they can open it, take out what doesn't serve them, and put the rest in storage. These people, while they accept their fate, also acknowledge life is worth living, and lugging shit around will just slow it down.
In all of the above cases, no one can fix a person but themselves. If you want to take someone on, you have my blessing, whatever my blessing is worth to you. Many simply don't want to be fixed, or they're in such deep denial they don't think they need outside assistance. They may be happy where they're at, whatever their definition of happy may be. All I can say is, it takes all kinds to make the world turn.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Trying Something New/ A Lesson in Balance
So, we're trying something new. The worst part of the addiction is I find the most assinine things to do. Facebook is very much the culprit. I mean, I miss the days of watching Homestar Runner cartoons in my buddy Jon's smoky computer room (which, alas, is still quoted in my home.) So, my new goal is to find more purposeful things to do while sitting in the monitors not-so-warm glow. Hence, the rebirth of the blog.
I'd like to think I have interesting things to say. I'm not stupid (say for a few bouts of 'mommy brain'), I have a toddler - which makes for hours of entertainment to boot - and I'm rather involved with the community and the process of making it a better place for my daughter to live. I try to pay attention to politics, I'm pissed as hell about the BP disaster, so I'm pretty sure I'm bound to find something interesting to say.
My intention a few hours ago was to write a blog about complaining. But before I got to really put together my thoughts on the subject, I got into a heated discussion with someone about...you guessed it...complaining. I'm not sure if this makes me more or less eligible to write such a blog in this moment, so I'm going to hold off.
I do, however, want to write about a topic that seems to be popping up a lot lately...Balance. I've been attracted to the yin yang symbol since, for certain, Sophomore year of high school. Though, back then, I had no idea why. I've told the story to many people of how I was trying to debate what to put on my class ring, and one side boiled down to the yin yang, and the cross and Bible. Five bucks to the person who guesses what the final result was. Yep, NOT the one that is currently tattooed on my left arm. (Thanks Mom! :P )
The basic premise of the yin yang is that you cannot have the good without the bad. Even on the ying side of the symbol, there's still a little dot of yang to keep it in check, and vice versa. If life was infinitely wonderful, the joy and splendor in life would become the norm, and you would lose sense of appreciation. On the flip side, if life was infinitely miserable, you would accept this as your fate and you would never know joy.
There was a time where I saw lots of yang, but not a lot of yin. Unemployment seemed to plague this home, an unplanned (yet blessed) pregnancy, every time we had a shot of getting ahead, something on the car would break down, you name it. But the yin was that we never went without. We came out of the situation with our home, our car, our family and our sanity relatively intact. I didn't always see the light at the tunnel back then.
I also have a friend who once thought that if a lot of good landed on her lap, she then deserved the bad to eventually come, so to the point where she seemed to invite it. Don't dupe yourself into thinking this. The Universe knows what it's doing. If you find a $20 bill on the sidewalk today, you're allowed to enjoy your good fortune. Perhaps that $20 bill, which you happened to find just before realizing you left your wallet at home while at the coffee shop, was a response to bad night in tips you had a month ago.
Of course, this, and the conversation of Karma, is frequently met with, "Why does good things happen to bad people?" The Christian faith proclaims that "God has a plan." I don't necessarily find this to be wrong, though perhaps a bit misleading. "The Universe has a plan," would be my response, but with a few stipulations.
What defines "bad things?" As an example, Aaron fought to keep a job by hopping from temp job to temp job for the majority of Autumn's life (about 2 1/2 years,now). Being that I keep the budget and checkbook, many times I yanked my hair, lost sleep, and even got upset with Aaron himself for irrational reasons. In the end, those temp jobs gave Aaron the skills needed to land the permanent (and perfect for him!) position he is currently working.
A more extreme situation involves death, or critical injury. I think of a a story currently in Sheboygan news involving a family of six who crashed their car while visiting family in Mexico. The mother is currently still in too poor of shape to be transported. They all survived, but the rehabilitation will likely never end. In other recent stories, there are drownings, fires and other situations where innocent children have died. What good can possibly come of these things-which I think we will not argue are all "bad"? I do not know the individuals personally, so I cannot answer for these families. I know the drowning of a 9-year-old girl brought a divided community of Musilims and "everyone else" together. In these cases you have a heavy load of yang, and too many people feel that after such a tragedy, they do not deserve to be happy again - to have their yin. This is also false. This is where you need to balance your sorrow out with the support of your community, in whichever form may present itself to you.
I guess what I'm saying is that while you have freewill, don't push the issue. Strive for as much yin as possible, but accept that the yang will come... and go. Balance allows you to feel your joy, sorrow, and all feelings in between. You are allowed to grieve, but it musn't consume you. You are allowed to love, but don't let it make you reckless. Humankind in its ignorance, hatred and irrationality, has managed to survive this long. Let the Universe do its job.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
The last 36 hours (or so)
Yesterday was Earthfest. I could write novels of the chaos, discrepancies with vendors, frustrations with volunteers not showing up, amazing performances, delicious food, valuable friends, fabulous weather and overall fun.
But I won't.
Let's just say, I was up at 4:30 (ten minutes before the alarm clock went off), to get to the park at 6:00, which is fine. I can deal. I got home just before 10:00, figuring I could unwind and get myself to bed at a reasonable hour, since I had to work at 11:00 the next morning. Whoo, boy, was I wrong!
I went to bed around 11:00. Aaron and I talked a brief while while laying in bed, I was just about asleep when...Autumn woke up. And she was not happy in the least. She wakes up on occasion, but usually gets herself back down. Not tonight. I figured, I'll check her diaper, snuggle with her a bit, and she should be fine. Unfortunately, I picked her up, and her whole body (she was in nothing but a diaper) was just scorching hot. I could not find her thermometer, so I told Aaron to hang out with her and I'd get one at the nearest 24-hour Walgreens (only a 2-minute drive away). 105.0 was the reading. To the ER we go.
That was scary as hell. She had been running a slight temperature since Friday, but I figure, she's teething, it happens. If it was still going on Monday morning, I'd take her to the walk-in clinic. She looked and felt awful, and I felt completely guilty for being too busy with Earthfest business to take care of her sooner. I had a minor breakdown in the ER between waiting for various tests. Not that the tiredness had anything to do with it (sarcasm, sarcasm).
So, after two needles, a urine sample (via mini-cath), a chest x-ray, and a few catnaps on my chest, Autumn managed through the night, all the way till 3:00am. So, she slept till her usual time this morning, took her 1 1/2 naps (which was the norm before all of this), and has been very snuggly. Her temp is still a bit high, but much more manageable. We go to her regular pediatrician tomorrow for a follow-up.
So there it is. I'm heading to bed early tonight. Or, at least I'll be in my pjs doing nothing in a few minutes. Hopefully something will give during the overnight. This is the most sickness I've dealt with for Autumn. I guess we've been pretty lucky that way.
Tuesday, I have an anti-Pagan protester to deal with, but that's for another posting.
But I won't.
Let's just say, I was up at 4:30 (ten minutes before the alarm clock went off), to get to the park at 6:00, which is fine. I can deal. I got home just before 10:00, figuring I could unwind and get myself to bed at a reasonable hour, since I had to work at 11:00 the next morning. Whoo, boy, was I wrong!
I went to bed around 11:00. Aaron and I talked a brief while while laying in bed, I was just about asleep when...Autumn woke up. And she was not happy in the least. She wakes up on occasion, but usually gets herself back down. Not tonight. I figured, I'll check her diaper, snuggle with her a bit, and she should be fine. Unfortunately, I picked her up, and her whole body (she was in nothing but a diaper) was just scorching hot. I could not find her thermometer, so I told Aaron to hang out with her and I'd get one at the nearest 24-hour Walgreens (only a 2-minute drive away). 105.0 was the reading. To the ER we go.
That was scary as hell. She had been running a slight temperature since Friday, but I figure, she's teething, it happens. If it was still going on Monday morning, I'd take her to the walk-in clinic. She looked and felt awful, and I felt completely guilty for being too busy with Earthfest business to take care of her sooner. I had a minor breakdown in the ER between waiting for various tests. Not that the tiredness had anything to do with it (sarcasm, sarcasm).
So, after two needles, a urine sample (via mini-cath), a chest x-ray, and a few catnaps on my chest, Autumn managed through the night, all the way till 3:00am. So, she slept till her usual time this morning, took her 1 1/2 naps (which was the norm before all of this), and has been very snuggly. Her temp is still a bit high, but much more manageable. We go to her regular pediatrician tomorrow for a follow-up.
So there it is. I'm heading to bed early tonight. Or, at least I'll be in my pjs doing nothing in a few minutes. Hopefully something will give during the overnight. This is the most sickness I've dealt with for Autumn. I guess we've been pretty lucky that way.
Tuesday, I have an anti-Pagan protester to deal with, but that's for another posting.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Ben and Jerry's on a Rollercoaster Ride
Last night I was in the mood to write, but the results would have been much different from what you are about to read. And that's a good thing.
I haven't been blogging lately, and I have no specific reason why. Midsummer Fest is in 9 days. I'm looking forward to it, but I'm not exactly jumping for joy. I'm hoping that will change. That tends to happen when it doesn't turn out anything like you had hoped. There is another pending project that I'm hoping to redirect my energy towards next year. But shhhhh... it's a secret.
The last 24 hours have been a hellova ride, as you can see from my status updates. Aaron has found some temp work for this week, which is wonderful. On top of steady 1st-shift work, he has 3 karaoke DJ gigs this week, starting tonight. This has thrown our schedule in upheaval trying to find someone to watch Autumn. I've had to cancel a couple tiny shifts with Home Instead, but this was partially for my own sanity. I'm very blessed for the community I am surrounded by. Last night at Tea and Talk (a Pagan discussion group we've been attending for several months) I brought up that we still had some gaps in the schedule. Two women in the group jumped right in and said they would help. (And they are two that we know and trust the most.)
In the meantime, not having Aaron around means no backup during the day. I'm typically fine with this. In fact, I tend to get more housework done when it's just Autumn and I. However, yesterday gave me a swift kick in the arse. I started my day with a new yoga class through the Sheboygan Falls YMCA. LOVED IT! The instructor and her methods were perfect for what I was looking for. But I then had to rush back to my parents' home, where Autumn was, lay her down for a (half-hour) nap, eat, change clothes, keep drinkning water to prep for plasma donation, then get to BioLife. Check on my recent status updates for THAT story. No 2nd nap, no break. Meanwhile the housework has been neglected, which was apparent every minute of housework I attempted while having an overtired, clingy toddler by my side.
Today is a new day. Autumn has not bee sleeping well the last couple of nights, but last night she only woke up once, and was able to get herself back down. Hopefully she will be back on track. However, she woke up about two hours earlier than I am used to. It's OK. I feel rested, and now I have more time in the day to continue housework. I'm shedding myself of yesterday and moving forward. That's how it goes, right?
I haven't been blogging lately, and I have no specific reason why. Midsummer Fest is in 9 days. I'm looking forward to it, but I'm not exactly jumping for joy. I'm hoping that will change. That tends to happen when it doesn't turn out anything like you had hoped. There is another pending project that I'm hoping to redirect my energy towards next year. But shhhhh... it's a secret.
The last 24 hours have been a hellova ride, as you can see from my status updates. Aaron has found some temp work for this week, which is wonderful. On top of steady 1st-shift work, he has 3 karaoke DJ gigs this week, starting tonight. This has thrown our schedule in upheaval trying to find someone to watch Autumn. I've had to cancel a couple tiny shifts with Home Instead, but this was partially for my own sanity. I'm very blessed for the community I am surrounded by. Last night at Tea and Talk (a Pagan discussion group we've been attending for several months) I brought up that we still had some gaps in the schedule. Two women in the group jumped right in and said they would help. (And they are two that we know and trust the most.)
In the meantime, not having Aaron around means no backup during the day. I'm typically fine with this. In fact, I tend to get more housework done when it's just Autumn and I. However, yesterday gave me a swift kick in the arse. I started my day with a new yoga class through the Sheboygan Falls YMCA. LOVED IT! The instructor and her methods were perfect for what I was looking for. But I then had to rush back to my parents' home, where Autumn was, lay her down for a (half-hour) nap, eat, change clothes, keep drinkning water to prep for plasma donation, then get to BioLife. Check on my recent status updates for THAT story. No 2nd nap, no break. Meanwhile the housework has been neglected, which was apparent every minute of housework I attempted while having an overtired, clingy toddler by my side.
Today is a new day. Autumn has not bee sleeping well the last couple of nights, but last night she only woke up once, and was able to get herself back down. Hopefully she will be back on track. However, she woke up about two hours earlier than I am used to. It's OK. I feel rested, and now I have more time in the day to continue housework. I'm shedding myself of yesterday and moving forward. That's how it goes, right?
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Mama's Day
So today's Mother's Day, and I've got to leave for work in about a half hour. I should really get out of my PJ's.
This has been quite an interesting weekend. Friday night I worked, and at first it was looking to be dreadfully slow, which means no decent amount of income. The other drivers were sent home and we were handed a late rush. I came out quite well, I must say. We didn't get out of the building until 2:30am, but my manager was in one of the most pleasant moods to come from him that I have seen in quite some time. We mocked some of his former classmates that I worked with during my first stint at the Hut, we laughed a lot, it was all good.
Yesterday was Motherfest, an annual Earthfest fundraiser held on the weekend of Mother's Day. Aaron and Autumn joined me for a while, but much to our chagrin, it was not an ideal setting for a toddler. There were many friends in the area who are used to young ones, and they were very accommodating with her, but the second nap was inevitable, so Aaron and Autumn were dropped off at home.
It was planned that I perform some spoken word "poetry" (I feel it's more prose) by Maggie Estep between some of the singing performers. I really don't remember much about the actual performances, but I ended up doing a bit of MC-ing in the process. For my last round I knew ahead of time that the group's set-up was going to take a bit of time, so after the one poem I had left had finished (which got a lot of great responses), I improvised for some time to keep it rolling. It was an absolute blast. I had a handful of people tell me that it was a lot of fun to watch my energy roll on stage like it did. The weird thing was that I wasn't really putting a lot of acting into my work. I just did it. I think I should start my own karaoke business. We just gotta stop being broke.
So here I am, telling myself to get off the computer and get ready for work. Oddly, I'm only scheduled till 4:00, when it's usually 7:00. I know the reasoning, and it's stupid, but I get to be thankful now because we're heading to my grandma's for supper tonight, which I was just made aware of at about 10:30 last night. I'm just going to enjoy the day, hopefully make some bucks, and celebrate Mother's Day at suppertime - with four generations of kick-ass women in one room. Look out world.
This has been quite an interesting weekend. Friday night I worked, and at first it was looking to be dreadfully slow, which means no decent amount of income. The other drivers were sent home and we were handed a late rush. I came out quite well, I must say. We didn't get out of the building until 2:30am, but my manager was in one of the most pleasant moods to come from him that I have seen in quite some time. We mocked some of his former classmates that I worked with during my first stint at the Hut, we laughed a lot, it was all good.
Yesterday was Motherfest, an annual Earthfest fundraiser held on the weekend of Mother's Day. Aaron and Autumn joined me for a while, but much to our chagrin, it was not an ideal setting for a toddler. There were many friends in the area who are used to young ones, and they were very accommodating with her, but the second nap was inevitable, so Aaron and Autumn were dropped off at home.
It was planned that I perform some spoken word "poetry" (I feel it's more prose) by Maggie Estep between some of the singing performers. I really don't remember much about the actual performances, but I ended up doing a bit of MC-ing in the process. For my last round I knew ahead of time that the group's set-up was going to take a bit of time, so after the one poem I had left had finished (which got a lot of great responses), I improvised for some time to keep it rolling. It was an absolute blast. I had a handful of people tell me that it was a lot of fun to watch my energy roll on stage like it did. The weird thing was that I wasn't really putting a lot of acting into my work. I just did it. I think I should start my own karaoke business. We just gotta stop being broke.
So here I am, telling myself to get off the computer and get ready for work. Oddly, I'm only scheduled till 4:00, when it's usually 7:00. I know the reasoning, and it's stupid, but I get to be thankful now because we're heading to my grandma's for supper tonight, which I was just made aware of at about 10:30 last night. I'm just going to enjoy the day, hopefully make some bucks, and celebrate Mother's Day at suppertime - with four generations of kick-ass women in one room. Look out world.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Maiden, Mother, Crone talk
As I've mentioned here, Aaron and I have been going to a weekly Pagan discussion group dubbed "Tea and Talks". This past Tuesday, there was much talk of the three phases in a woman's life, The Maiden, Mother and Crone. There are two women in the group who really should be in the Maiden phase, still, but somehow got their way into the Mother phase prematurely, and it's sucking a lot of life out of them.
While listening to this, I realized that I got into the start of the Mother phase much earlier than it seems. It was pretty obvious when I decided to marry a man who already had two children. However, I was sort of my brother's mom in high school already, because of my parents' work schedules. Thankfully, my bro and I have always been close because of this.
In those days, I remember being told on a regular basis that I would make a good mother someday. The thing is, I was already on my way. I was the one people would go to for advice, if they dared getting caught talking to me at school. I was the one making sure my brother had his homework done and helped with the dishes on occasion. Even my senior year of high school, I had a boyfriend who was two years younger than me. At that stage in the game, it was a big difference. It just seemed to be there so early.
Now, it's so apparent that I'm in fully mommy mode. But I realized that I'm still not willing to give up a part of the Maiden life. I think I got a little hosed out of the Maiden life that I should have had. I think I feel a bit ashamed of that. I'm not proud of it, at least. I mean, I'm married with a kid, the whole Mother thing is what I'm supposed to be doing, right?
That said, a new issue has come up in the household. Aaron's parents has been encouraging him to go back to school for a Pharmacy Technician, which would take about a year. Yesterday he attended a seminar to get more info. At first, I felt very weird about it, and couldn't pinpoint why. Last night, I figured it out; I'm jealous because I've had plans to go back to school for years, but wanted to wait until Autumn was in pre-school so figureing out her care would be less of a problem. It seemed to be the right plan. And now this thing comes up out of the blue and Aaron gets to jump ahead of me?
Well, the negativity has subsided. Aaron and I talked it out last night and we both came out of it very positively. However, his mom is not quite seeing it this way. She called him tonight while I was at work. He tried to explain how I was feeling, but then also tried to explain that we've settled on the idea that this is a good thing. The last time I was talking about this whole thing in front of Aaron's parents, I was still very leary, and that's all his mom knows. In a nutshell, Aaron tried to defend how I was feeling and logically explain where we now stand, and she wouldn't hear it. So to the point that she kept talking no matter how hard he tried to stop her.
I just keep getting the feeling that Aaron's parents, his mom at least, are starting to see me as another Samantha-Aaron's ex wife. In a nutshell, he was a doormat in that marriage and was borderline verbally abused. Yes, I have the "leader" personality in this marriage, he and I will agree to this. But Aaron is allowed a say in what goes on under this roof. He is allowed to make his own decisions. If anything, I'm the one who is always saying "I'm thinking about doing ____, what do you think?" I'm very frustrated that they don't seem to see the difference between a leader and a pushover. And I've been the pushover before, and it's been pointed out to me on many occasions.
I really don't want there to be a rift between Aaron's family and this home. There was one during his first marriage, and it's not fair to let that happen again. By and large, I love his family. They've been super supportive through every bit of crap we've been through. And they're fun to boot. I just hope this is resolved peacefully.
While listening to this, I realized that I got into the start of the Mother phase much earlier than it seems. It was pretty obvious when I decided to marry a man who already had two children. However, I was sort of my brother's mom in high school already, because of my parents' work schedules. Thankfully, my bro and I have always been close because of this.
In those days, I remember being told on a regular basis that I would make a good mother someday. The thing is, I was already on my way. I was the one people would go to for advice, if they dared getting caught talking to me at school. I was the one making sure my brother had his homework done and helped with the dishes on occasion. Even my senior year of high school, I had a boyfriend who was two years younger than me. At that stage in the game, it was a big difference. It just seemed to be there so early.
Now, it's so apparent that I'm in fully mommy mode. But I realized that I'm still not willing to give up a part of the Maiden life. I think I got a little hosed out of the Maiden life that I should have had. I think I feel a bit ashamed of that. I'm not proud of it, at least. I mean, I'm married with a kid, the whole Mother thing is what I'm supposed to be doing, right?
That said, a new issue has come up in the household. Aaron's parents has been encouraging him to go back to school for a Pharmacy Technician, which would take about a year. Yesterday he attended a seminar to get more info. At first, I felt very weird about it, and couldn't pinpoint why. Last night, I figured it out; I'm jealous because I've had plans to go back to school for years, but wanted to wait until Autumn was in pre-school so figureing out her care would be less of a problem. It seemed to be the right plan. And now this thing comes up out of the blue and Aaron gets to jump ahead of me?
Well, the negativity has subsided. Aaron and I talked it out last night and we both came out of it very positively. However, his mom is not quite seeing it this way. She called him tonight while I was at work. He tried to explain how I was feeling, but then also tried to explain that we've settled on the idea that this is a good thing. The last time I was talking about this whole thing in front of Aaron's parents, I was still very leary, and that's all his mom knows. In a nutshell, Aaron tried to defend how I was feeling and logically explain where we now stand, and she wouldn't hear it. So to the point that she kept talking no matter how hard he tried to stop her.
I just keep getting the feeling that Aaron's parents, his mom at least, are starting to see me as another Samantha-Aaron's ex wife. In a nutshell, he was a doormat in that marriage and was borderline verbally abused. Yes, I have the "leader" personality in this marriage, he and I will agree to this. But Aaron is allowed a say in what goes on under this roof. He is allowed to make his own decisions. If anything, I'm the one who is always saying "I'm thinking about doing ____, what do you think?" I'm very frustrated that they don't seem to see the difference between a leader and a pushover. And I've been the pushover before, and it's been pointed out to me on many occasions.
I really don't want there to be a rift between Aaron's family and this home. There was one during his first marriage, and it's not fair to let that happen again. By and large, I love his family. They've been super supportive through every bit of crap we've been through. And they're fun to boot. I just hope this is resolved peacefully.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Goin' back to high school
Yeah, so I botched the "blog every day in April" plan. Arrest me.
Last night I went to go see Oostburg HS's production of Midsummer Night's Dream - the school I graduated from doing a show I was in my junior year. I must say I was very impressed with the talent, especially for a high school production. Although it was weird going back and seeing that the school finally did some remodeling. Much of the parts of the school were there when my dad attended, and you could tell. Because heaven knows the basketball team couldn't go THREE YEARS in a row with the same uniforms!
In other news, Autumn got a minor ear infection. We caught it pretty early, so we dealt with a fever for one day, a poor appetite for two days, and that's about it. She's a tough cookie, we all knew she'd take it in stride. And we know how fortunate we are in that she's 15 months old and just now getting her first one. It's nice to know we're doing something right. :)
We had the boys over this weekend, in fact they and Aaron just left to get dropped off at church. It's been tough dealing with them lately-particularly Michael. Firstly, it's pretty apparent that Michael's gaining weight again, and not in the "normal growing boy" way. It's also pretty apparent that he's getting lazier, and quite frankly, more selfish. We just got report cards, and this behavior is affecting his school work. I know, kids his age want the world to revolve around them, I get it. But Michael simply doesn't seem to understand that there are other people in the room with him, and they're not going to be focused on him 24/7.
Both of the boys have taken on this need to be Autumn's shadow in everything she does, to the point where they're tattling on her with every little thing she does, and most of the time she's not doing anything of any concern. On the other side of the coin, when we need them to keep an eye on her, the TV becomes the primary focus. It's just a very frustrating situation. I love those boys, but there days when it's hard to like them.
That's all for now. I've gotta get ready for work.
Last night I went to go see Oostburg HS's production of Midsummer Night's Dream - the school I graduated from doing a show I was in my junior year. I must say I was very impressed with the talent, especially for a high school production. Although it was weird going back and seeing that the school finally did some remodeling. Much of the parts of the school were there when my dad attended, and you could tell. Because heaven knows the basketball team couldn't go THREE YEARS in a row with the same uniforms!
In other news, Autumn got a minor ear infection. We caught it pretty early, so we dealt with a fever for one day, a poor appetite for two days, and that's about it. She's a tough cookie, we all knew she'd take it in stride. And we know how fortunate we are in that she's 15 months old and just now getting her first one. It's nice to know we're doing something right. :)
We had the boys over this weekend, in fact they and Aaron just left to get dropped off at church. It's been tough dealing with them lately-particularly Michael. Firstly, it's pretty apparent that Michael's gaining weight again, and not in the "normal growing boy" way. It's also pretty apparent that he's getting lazier, and quite frankly, more selfish. We just got report cards, and this behavior is affecting his school work. I know, kids his age want the world to revolve around them, I get it. But Michael simply doesn't seem to understand that there are other people in the room with him, and they're not going to be focused on him 24/7.
Both of the boys have taken on this need to be Autumn's shadow in everything she does, to the point where they're tattling on her with every little thing she does, and most of the time she's not doing anything of any concern. On the other side of the coin, when we need them to keep an eye on her, the TV becomes the primary focus. It's just a very frustrating situation. I love those boys, but there days when it's hard to like them.
That's all for now. I've gotta get ready for work.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Uneventful
Worked both jobs today. Nothing to write home about on either end.
In between, Autumn and I ran a bunch of errands together. She was a total rock star, as usual. Her illness is getting much better, and she's sleeping like a rock (yay!) Some of the errands included getting the paperwork for Midsummer Fest copied. It's actually feeling real now, which is weird.
Tomorrow Autumn and I have swim class. Then the three of us are heading out of town again. Hopefully we'll be meeting up with my sister in Oshkosh for a few minutes, as I still owe her a t-shirt that she ordered during last year's Earthfest. Oy.
Off to bed in a few. I'm soo looking forward to tomorrow :)
In between, Autumn and I ran a bunch of errands together. She was a total rock star, as usual. Her illness is getting much better, and she's sleeping like a rock (yay!) Some of the errands included getting the paperwork for Midsummer Fest copied. It's actually feeling real now, which is weird.
Tomorrow Autumn and I have swim class. Then the three of us are heading out of town again. Hopefully we'll be meeting up with my sister in Oshkosh for a few minutes, as I still owe her a t-shirt that she ordered during last year's Earthfest. Oy.
Off to bed in a few. I'm soo looking forward to tomorrow :)
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