%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |  This was my first blog, maybe my best blog...nah! The journey continues with another..!
|
|
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Check out this signature's match at Thomas  's blog** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "You want to become aware of your thoughts and choose them carefully. You are the Michelangelo of your own life; the 'David' you are sculpting is YOU!" Dr. Joe Vitale
|
| I cannot believe I have allowed almost an entire week to elapse without a blog entry. What's wrong with this picture?! No, it's not my new and fabulous life situation with the adorable Thomas that has caused this lax blogging style (by the way, last weekend, though it began quite late and with more errors than listed in the last blog entry, turned out very, very well  ). Nope. Instead it is about a life event almost more convoluted and stressful than surgery...moving.Yes, I am moving. And through careful thought and much pondering about the life situations of myself and my three daughters, I made the executive decision most necessary and sensible to all of us. We are moving to DesMoines, IA. I told Sarah long ago that I would not move schools on her the way I did her sisters, and I sincerely meant it. I still mean it. She attended the same school district, the same SCHOOL basically, since the second grade, so this move is going to be the most involved and crazy, perhaps, for her. She was all set to be on the dance team at Moline High School, all set to continue schooling with the friends she's had since she was seven years old. Then mom drops this bomb, right? Perhaps not such a bomb. We've researched the school districts for where we're going-one cool aspect of the state of Iowa is its "open enrollment" policy. Regardless of where a child lives, they are eligible to enroll in any school in the state, pretty much, as long as the receiving school and the releasing school are in agreement. So upon perusing the school districts, we find my friend Mandy, who grew up in the area and still lives there, to be entirely correct about where Sarah finds the most appealing district. It's thankfully where we're also looking for a rental house.  She's also excited at the prospect of attending a celebrated dance school in DesMoines, a definite plus for the move. She has also mentioned she'll be fine with the move as long as she can have a purple room.  Oookay. No problem.Rachael was, at first, not flexible with the idea of moving until she started to think about it, herself. Her year at Roosevelt University taught her, unfortunately, that the big city might not be for her so much. I would probably love it, but she is not me. She needs something a little less crazy, a little more focused, a little bit quiet. Enter Iowa State University, which actually wanted Rachael LAST year, tried to woo her with promises and several friends who attend there. ISU would be a mere thirty minutes away from where we plan to find a house. Rachael is already in contact with ISU. And then there is Liz. The girl needs some outside help I'm just not getting, she's not getting, from this area of the country. This place is like the barren desert surrounded by lush greenery when it comes to mental health care. In DesMoines she will have access to hospitals and Drs she does not have here, and perhaps a group home she is in desperate need of. And then me...Mandy has sent me a link to a job with a good company, one that reimburses for college classes, how cool is THAT? And oh yes, there is the added bonus of being that much closer to-you know-that Thomas character I'm so fond of  So we're set, right? Hold it! We have to pack. And clean. And then pack some more. And did I fail to mention Lake Carpetsquish?-thusly named by Rachael. It is the newest addtion to Illinois lakes. The directions are simple. My house, the living room carpet. See? We have no idea what's causing it, but water has seeped underneath the carpet and is creating the lake from hell. I can't wait to blow this cookie factory. You have no idea. *pulling hair out icon*  |
| Have you ever had one of those days when every single little thing that could possibly go wrong, create an obstacle, or simply be infuriating...happens? I'm experiencing one of those days I'm going out of town today, and yes I'm still going even if it IS going to be late when I get there-I've gone through too much to turn back now! So take a nap, you! Here is how it all started: last week I experienced a glitch at the bank and through the government-gotta love that government-that set back funds I was due for a full week, and then I didn't receive those funds until very late yesterday afternoon, and I'd already planned on this little trip. Ah, trip saved thought I. But no, Murphy most certainly wasn't done with me yet... There is flooding here in the Quad Cities, now there's a huge new bulletin Because of this flooding, most of downtown Davenport is being considered a flood zone. Crazy daughter parks my SUV in flood zone. Car towed. Oh that Murphy! Now you'd think that would be all, that I could go to the car impound and collect said vehicle, right? Oh but silly you! The registration...is in the girls' father's name. Yes, the one who is my ex, who no longer lives here. And of course the Davenport police will not release my vehicle to anyone else. Oh the joy. So now I have to call the ex and talking him makes me want to hurt myself. A lot. As in pencil through the eye. Now you would think all glitches would be hurdled. You would be wrong. The idiot-I'm sorry I've been dealing with him too much-allowed insurance to lapse on the vehicle without saying one word to me. I would be fine with taking over payments, he is not in my life, I am not in his other than as co-parents, and let's face it, he's more out of my girls' lives than in to a major degree. But he said NOTHING. We need proof of insurance to get the SUV. Well hell. *faint, scream, cry* So I have had to spend the morning getting insured. On a Saturday. The more hurdles I've come up against in my out-of-town planning farce, the more I'm determined to see it through. I'm not going to let this crazy life of mine stop me, no way. Besides, with every hurdle crossed I'm just in deeper, right? So here I sit, waiting for an e-mail I can print out which will give me-yes-PROOF OF INSURANCE!!! Now I hope Murphy is done with me. What do you think? See you there! |
| I love my friends, all of them. I have both male and female friends, and like I wrote in a recent entry, they are both valuable to me but just a little different. In the previous entry I did, if you'll remember, mention the "spark" between most male/female friends which is certainly understandable; nothing is better than connecting with someone you might be attracted to-the best relationships are built from that solid foundation of similar interests, a shared sense of humor, and respect. No one would know that better than me...especially now. I really had pretty much given up on the "love" thing for myself. I knew that for me to ever "go there" again it would have to be that soulmate person who might exist for other people, but I was more than a little sure the whole thing had passed me by, and I was okay with that. I was determined to live my life with joy, passion, and fervor without that "special someone" others seemed to find but I knew I never would...oops. Never say never because God has a sense of humor himself, and I felt a laughing "Gotcha!" from Him recently... I have loved Thomas for a long time, at least three years. The first time I read a story of his I was enchanted, and I saw him in it clearly. I reviewed it and promptly put him into my "favorites". Then he began to comment in my blog, we e-mailed more...long story short, we became quite close friends, someone I thought about quite a lot, more and more...I would occasionally strictly remind myself we were "only friends." We went through a lot with each other, we really did. He knows me on a level few others do. I think I know him the same way. Cut to my angry nonsense of a month and a half ago, of which he was an unfortunate recipient. I was upset with him, but I could have handled it SO much better! What happened afterwards-the silence between us-was too sad for mere words. When the silence ended, friendship restored, my heart filled to bursting and the love I have felt for this man came roaring out into the open-I couldn't deny feeling far more than friendly love-and what I really found crazy...he felt it TOO! So God's "gotcha" at me--WOW!!! I was blindsided by the realization that my soulmate-the one I never thought I'd meet-has been standing in front of me for a while now. I believe I knew, actually, but buried the knowledge until we were both ready for this step. Now we are: Soul Mate Standing, facing you My special, caring friend The one I love to laugh with And cry a little,too Standng, facing you Who's meant so much to me So many inner thoughts we trade Our deepest, darkest fears Standing, facing you I'm lost in wonderment At how I almost missed this chance To make sweet love with you Standng, facing you It's all so crystal clear That you are who I want to see Forever standing. facing me. Don't ever say "never" when it comes to your life's plans. With any luck you'll be blindsided like me. I love you, Thomas  PS: Check out his blog, linked at the left; he wrote some wonderfully romantic poems-to someone- |
| I feel sorry for those of you experiencing a heat wave. I can't stand heat so I suffer extremely during periods like that. I have no problem with empathy. But we in "the heartland" will soon be trading in our cars for aquatic means of transportation. Iowa is sinking. Sure, everyone expected California to sink. Nope, we are going first. For those not "in the know," I live literally straddled between Iowa and Illinois. On the Mississippi. The Mighty Mississippi which is living up to its name quite nicely around here. On the island where we currently live, we are not able to get to the Iowa half of the Quad Cities; the bridges are under water. That's a lot of water. I mean A LOT. For a trivia note and perhaps a minor reason Moline, IL might get mentioned on the news, especially the entertainment stuff: we stranded Kanye West! That darn ol' Mighty Mississippi came rushing out of its banks last night and the parking lot of our local concert arena, right down the street from me, was flooded so completely only the tops of cars were visible. Cedar Rapids, only about forty-five minutes from where I live, is currently under so much water I think they're handing out scuba gear. I'm headed for DesMoines in a short while, but not downtown DesMoines. Why you might ask? Oh, it's under water. Last night Rachael and Sarah were esctatic and felt famous because they sent an e-mail into one of our local television stations concerning our washed out bridges, our inability to cross into the Iowa cities, and it was read over the air. They now consider themselves to be broadcast journalists. That was after we had tornado sirens twice within a two hour span, on the tail end of a lightning show which would put any fireworks display to shame. After an hour of being told we had "circular activity" practically above our house. Eh. Just another evening in the Heartland. Who said it was boring out here?  |
| "This is a short book because most books about writing are filled with bullshit." That was it, what drew me into Stephen King's On Writing, because I consider that simple little statement to be correct. I believe it to be true because, as King states so eloquently, "This is...my attempt to show how a writer was formed. Not made, I don't believe writers CAN be "made," either by circumstances or self will. The equipment comes with the original package." Amen. I believe the vast majority of us on this particular site were born, then formed, into what we were destined to be from birth-writers. King goes on to give us a glimpse into his childhood experiences which stand out to him, the memories somehow preserved when others were whisked away for some unknown reason. He admits his recollections to be few and choppy; I can't help thinking "how nice for him," because more often than not I more closely resemble Mary Karr, an author he claims to admire for her crystal clear memories from early on. Sometimes it's a curse, this inability to forget. As usual, I digress As I was reading his accounts of early childhood, the pieces which most starkly created the author he became, I couldn't help reaching back into this weird memory of my own, likening some of my own experiences to his... I remember playing for hours in the backyard of my grandmother's house. In my young eyes it was large and a vitual forest-as forest like as the arid climate of the Oklahoma Panhandle can get *which isn't much*-but imagination in children is magical. To me that yard was the backdrop for countless westerns, adventures where the child had to strike out on his own and learn to fend for himself. I played "Little House On the Prairie" but would bore of tired storylines and create my own. I'd make up new characters and act them all out...I could go on for literally hours, until my mother or grandmother would call me in and my imagined world, so real to me, would *poof* away like so much pixie dust. For awhile, when I was older and in elementary school, I had a bedroom in the basement of my great grandmother's house. My room used to be part of a dancing school run by my aunt and mother; mirrors spanned one entire wall. That room was a dream for a kid like me. Suddenly I had twice the space and an extra character! Once again, hours were spent in that room, acting out and creating scenarios usually based on books I loved. Lots of adventures, many westerns, a few classics. I expanded on them all, little knowing I was actually "writing" fan fiction in my head  When I was about ten years old I discovered a new series of books to adore: Alfred Hitchcock's mystery series for young people, usually beginning with a title like "The Mystery of the Stolen Gem," etc. They seemed more real to me than the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew. The protagonists were a group of teenage boys who opened their own detective agency...the realism came in because they weren't perfect. They mouthed off to their parents, got grounded, had to sneak out and around parental authority, and seldom did they get any credit for the crimes they solved other than personal satisfaction. I was hooked. As a result of these books, I was inspired to take my "fan fiction" creations to the next level. I began to write my own mysteries, at first with the same characters used by Hictchcock, then with ones of my own. In that year of my fifth grade I think I completed at least five of these first endeavors into the literary world. Sure, it took me until I was ten to actually create my own stories on paper, but I can't remember ever NOT thinking of myself as a writer. For me it just always was. Like I have blue eyes and brown hair. Maybe that was because both my father and mother were writers, my father for newspapers-I can still smell the newsprint from his editorial job at the Amarillo Globe-News and feel the adrenaline surge in my veins as a response-and my mother with scripts she created for her dancing schools-she also wrote stories and scripts of a kind in other ways, too, often turning them into the local paper for publication. So it was just natural to me, like some families are all about being drs or lawyers and there's never a question of it. For me it was writing. Never a question. So there is a bit of my story, the formation of who I am as a writer, inspired by Stephen King's unique "take" on what a book about writing should be. What's YOUR story? I'd like to know, and if it's a longer one than a comment can hold, blog about it. I'd really like to know! By the way, read King's book. It's a keeper for any "formed" writer. |
| Has anyone out there experienced that oh-so-infrequent and seldom-suffered bout of what has been called "writer's block"? The less absurd, more real question might be: who among us hasn't?? There are variations of "writer's block," at least for me. Sometimes I'll have wonderful story ideas just pouring out of my head, but little time to sit and write them out. When I finally DO have the time to actually sit, laptop or notebook and pen at the ready...blank white pages dance in front of me. Sometimes they even taunt me-nyah nyah your great idea was written in invisible ink! Brats. As an aside, I have been writing more poetry lately, those particular ideas and the fruition of them comes faster-and more easily lately weirdly enough-than the stories, but those stories are the meat of my creative life. Those are what staves off my demons... This has been my particular "writer's block" when it comes to short stories or even perhaps the idea of persuing a longer novel-type story: time to get the ideas out sometimes just isn't there, then *poof*...I get discouraged and sometimes, unintentionally, shut down my storyboard brain in a sort of self defense, to stave off those feelings of failure and disappointment. But I did find one solvent; I've learned to carry around little notebooks--even if I don't have time to actually write out the story, I'll at least have the idea on paper to peruse and refuel my inner storyteller--I think this will work! It doesn't hurt to have someone in one's life who's willing to share his own methods of getting his ideas "out there", someone who gifted me with a book of writing exercises that, when reading through them, has already set my storyteller into gear I'm also finding the value in a few books by professional writers, one of them being Stephen King's On Writing, which addresses his own issues in this area and how he has worked through them--quite successfully it's obvious-So it's a combination, I guess, of learning to compensate, being open to advice and tutelage no matter how long you've been writing, and possessing some wonderful support which sets all the wheels in motion, grinds creativity into gear. My wish for every writer is for that kind of support. It's invaluable. |
| I've made no secret-do I ever make ANYTHING a secret about the problems I've been having with my knee-jerk reactions and impulsive angry behavior. It's thrown me because this person who lurks in the mist of my psyche is not someone I like or enjoy. I'd love to purge this troublesome piece of me, but I had no idea where she came from! Enter my friend, someone who's known me for over twenty years: Mandy, visiting for the weekend, handed me an answer in her mild, unassuming way which never fails to be deadly accurate, scarily so. We were at WalMart-yeah, the "pick up joint"-and I was babbling on at a rapid pace I couldn't seem to stop. I mentioned to her that I felt so on edge and my mind couldn't seem to keep itself from spilling forth every little thought process; I was annoyed with MYSELF! I had to be annoying to anyone in the vicinity As we were walking along, me with those mild shakes, on-edge, wondering if I was going crazy, she matter-of-factly commented, "Oh, it's your ADHD flaring up." What a head thunk *slap* moment for me. For Pete's sake. I've known for years I have this condition, figured it out during the diagnosis of Liz and then my middle daughter. I had been on medication for it until about a year ago, when for some reason I just never returned to the doctor for a refill prescription. It was one of those "I'll get to it later" sort of issues until later just never happened and that "little" task fell to the side, crowded out by other more pressing concerns. I took internal inventory after Mandy's so-mild comment. My rattled nerves. Impulsive behavior, anger issues, spilling thoughts out of my head before I could stop them, and I haven't been able to even sit through a 30-minute sitcom for a month or two. DUH!!! The more I took mental inventory, the more I realized how, with one simple, quiet, dead-on observation, my best friend figured out what I didn't, and I've taken steps to rectify the situation. It's like one of my blog titles says: you gotta have friends! Thanks, Mandy. I'm going to link an article I wrote a while back concerning ADHD and what it's like to be a sufferer, why sometimes meds ARE the answer for what ails us. My middle daughter does NOT currently take medication for her condition, which consists of primarily inattention, but the option is always there if she feels she's losing control. We monitor her carefully.
|
| Oh yeah! My friend and I saw a movie, 21. If you haven't seen it and enjoy "angsty" cerebral types-like Carolina Blue -included with glamour, danger, and some heart-stopping moments thrown in, I highly recommend it. I liked it so much I couldn't stop thinking about it while I was trying to sleep last night...and wondering if "the Ben" I know could count cards like that After the movie we decided that instead of going out to a bar or ritzy restaurant we'd be just as happy getting some "booze" to share at my house *we really don't drink all that often, and since my friend fell asleep pretty quickly after we returned to my house, make that almost never, ha ha; those morning people just can't "hang" with us nocturnal types!* But on with the story. We went to Walmart, and being in Moline which has a stupid city ordnance about selling alcohol seperately, we went to the back of the store and entered the small store with all the booze. halfway into the place the cashier called to us, "I need to see your IDs." We startled and looked at each other! Being a "tad" past 21 we weren't expecting that, but I reached into my wallet...only to NOT find the ID. How embarrassing. Then I told her my age-42-and she said, "I'm sorry, but neither one of you look over 40 to me." Woo HOO!!! That was mighty cool even if I was annoyed about the ID thing. Then at the check out I found the "missing" ID-heh heh-buried with some bills. I told Mandy to go on to the car and I'd run back. Two young men walked in while I was making my purchase, looking not a day PAST 21. The cashier made them show her theirs and one youngter gestured to me. "Did you make her show you?" I turned to him and in my best teacher/mother voice said, "why, yes she did, and I'm past 40." The boy actually did a double-take, looked me up and down and said, "really? I couldn't tell that!" Woo HOO TWICE!! I grinned and said, "this is turning out to be a good night," and walked out feeling pretty darn good about myself...and pretty hot  We left the parking lot, Mandy and I, in her car with her driving. At an intersection I happened to glance over to the car beside us-you know how it is when you can tell someone is looking at you-and here was a young dark haired Oriental man smiling and indicating interest!!! He made gestures meant to imply "wanna party" and kept grinning and winking while Mandy and I busted a gut When we both took off at the green light he kept flashing his lights, wanting us to follow him!!! It was too funny and so-um-flattering at the same time. That evening made my weekend, Mandy's too. Just when you feel a little frumpy and old and like perhaps you're "just a mom" or "just a drudge" or "just a psychopath" something like THAT happens. It was a good night. PS: HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my funny, sweet, talented, poetic friend Thomas I won't tell you how old he is but we graduated from high school the same year. *halo* |
| It's going to be a good day! My friend Mandy is coming from DesMoines to spend a couple of days with me; her daughter is Sarah's age and they'll get to share the latest middle school dirt from their respective schools...could there BE a better weekend ahead?? These next enjoyable days come on the heels of one of those headachy days I detest and yet pretty much caused. Don't you hate realizing the catalyst of every angsty piece of it comes from YOU? Maybe it's just me. One day last week one of my close friends, who happens to be an internet buddy, and I discussed that age-old question which I believe has probably been asked throughout the ages: can men and women be "just friends?" His answer was, of course "yes, and mine was too...with qualifications. What are those? Do I feel my friendships with men are like my friendships with women? No. There IS an element of "what if" involved in every male/female relationship where they're both hetero, heh heh, because think about it: Part-and-parcel of finding a "partner" is compatibility and real friendship. Sometimes finding someone you "click" with can be a provocative aphrodesiac; I have male/female friendships which have not and will not cross that line. Doesn't mean I don't have some level of a "spark" for that person, but in my head I keep that spark to stimulate the FRIENDSHIP, to enjoy the time spent talking, etc. You just have to keep it in check-which is easier with some than others-and just enjoy that little extra something that comes with a male/female friendship. Loaded subject, huh? Especially around these parts, it seems, where men and women of like minds mingle. I don't know about any of you, but I have yet to find an "angsty writer's deep thinking cerebral poetry writing literary bar and singles club." This would pretty much do it. At the same time we all have experienced those really special bonds of the male/female friendships. I very much treasure the ones I have with my male friends-I wouldn't trade them for all the estrogen in an Oprah audience! So what do you all think? Comment with your own opinion(s) and who knows where it will take us. |
| Not too long ago my friend and yours, Ŧĥē Beŋ , posted a blog entry that began with a discussion-via the internet-he and I had concerning communication and the speculation that it has suffered from our technological advances. One one hand the internet has been a literal Godsend. I wouldn't know most of you if it weren't for that small computer chip-or several-which make it easy to meet and become close with other people around the globe. I can't imagine my life without Scarlett  , zwisis, to name only two of so many who expand my thinking, my writing, and ultimately my own world. I consider this little 'net technology to be a roaring success based on that alone, but still...Myspace, a new 'net home of mine, is currently suffering from a bug of a sort. For those of you not involved in such a group, myspace is all about inviting "friends," being invited to be a "friend," and enjoying the list of friends aquired there. This heinous little bug is resulting in a current friend listed coming up as "deleted" to everyone on THEIR friends list. It's a crazy little thing. I, er, sort of overreacted to one such "deletion" that occured to me. The subject of my knee-jerk, and erroneous, indignant e-mail rant with a concluded "how dare you delete me rant" was a new friend of mine, to be fair to myself, and I had no knowledge of the virus at the time. But I did go off the deep end just a bit-one of my weekend tirades during my "sick days." Later, of course, I learned of my mistake and was my face red!!! Of course that new friend couldn't see it and I tried to "mea culpa" as best I could but... to understate the situation I'm sooo embarrassed of my impulsive behavior The guy probably thinks I'm just a bit of a nut in a basket of fruit. Sigh. What's the connection between that scenerio and "interpersonal communication?" I can't help wondering if such a misunderstanding would happen if we were friends in person or even over the phone. Maybe I'd still sound a little nutty, but not basketcase worthy! At least I hope not. And perhaps I would have quickly known there was a mistake if I knew this person on more than an internet basis, if I could hear the tone of his voice, the friendliness of his nature. It's a ponder.Another friend of mine was also proven right during some recent nternet communication. We were IMing each other as friends occasionally do, and we almost came to blows over a subject we eventually realized was ludicrous...we'd been arguing the same point and simply hadn't realized it. It took a good thirty minutes of "altercation" before we both finally figured it all out...would it have happened at all had we been able to HEAR each other as opposed to READING each other's words?? Another ponder...So the conclusion of all this? Perhaps it's that old lesson which seems to be a central fact of life--everything in moderation. The internet is a wonderful tool, a great way to broaden our horizons and expand our world, but it can't take the place of face-to-face or even phone-to-phone communication. Perhaps our mothers were right all long: it's not WHAT we say...it's the WAY we say it. By the way, stop by Ŧĥē Beŋ 's blog sometime soon. He's a very interesting person. Even on the internet! |
| I'm so happy to back here, my internet "home"! I've missed it, missed everyone I love at wdc. Some are aware and some are not-I was sooo sick! It was one of those "sick" times when virus and bacteria combined to throw me down, stomp on my lungs via the bronchial tubes, and close up my throat...so not pretty. But I saw the doctor-directed at CERTAIN PEOPLE WHO SEEM TO BE DOCTOR PHOBIC AND YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE-and am now well on the path to...wellness! I'm not completely there yet but I only had TWO coughing fits today as opposed to constantly all day and night. DEFINATELY a 1000% improvement I'll live and I'm giddy with the sensation of oxygen streaming through my blood. You don't know what you appreciate until it's gone.I plan to catch up on my blog reading tonight. I relish it!! I've missed you all so much--you haven't forgotten me over here, have you?? This time, during my stomp-the-guts illness I forced myself to take it totally easy. This weekend has been AWFUL because I'm dying to get up and get moving! Sitting around is so freaking BORING and makes me not the most pleasant person...and boy do I start thinking too much! Do you ever do that? Too much free time is not good for me. I alienated a few new friends and almost tore it with a few old ones. Sheesh, bored Susan is not the good Susan My last vestige of sanity was salvaged by a few calls from some friends who pulled me back from the brink-you people also know who you are!I didn't get to mention before I was felled two weeks ago...I won a wdc contest!!! *jumping up and down like a giddy idiot* It's a horror contest run by M. R. K stop by his port and enjoy his stories, find the contest...if you like the genre, that is. The winner:
So I'm off to read up on what I've missed...tune in tomorrow for a return to my "soapbox" style of ranting here at my internet home--ooh, I embrace it!!! |
| On this Mother's Day I'm going to provide a bit of a twist and share the story of someone else's mother. And even if you are not on the same political wavelength, the story of Barack Obama's mother is a fascinating one: She was born and raised at the tail end of WWII, in an era rife with conventionality and mainstream ideals. She was raised in much the same way as any other young caucasion girl, with two parents, a stay-at-home mom of her own, in a nice neighborhood. Her father did have a habit, though, of uprooting his family with little notice, finally moving them to Honolulu, Hawaii. Mostly though, her upbringing was the stuff of fifties television. The woman she became was anything but conventional. One hint of anomoly in her life was in her name: Stanley Ann Dunham. When she was young and had to introduce herself she would always apologize for the oddity of it until eventually she dropped "Stanley" for good and became simply Ann. It was around 1959-I don't have the facts with me-that she graduated from high school and became a freshman at the University of Hawaii. It was there that she met a black man from Kenya, Obama Sr. They courted and married in a whirlwind that shocked everyone who knew her. She had always been so focused on academics, the marriage itself was more the surprise to those who knew her than her choice of mate. In 1961, though, interracial marriage was rare, although not as unheard-of in the rich culture of Hawaii. Barack was born on August 4, 1961. Not long after his birth, the father returned to Kenya to work for his home country, always with the idea of bringing his young family to the country when he was "more settled," but that never happened. A few years later, Ann filed for divorce and was officially the single mother of a little black boy. With the help of her parents who loved their grandson dearly, she returned to school, and once again during her studies in anthropology she met a man, this time an Indonesian who she eventually married, and with whom she had Barack's younger sister. By this time it was obvious that Stanley Ann Dunham was no "average" woman of her generation. Twice she spit in the face of convention and married outside her race and her culture. Upon completing her anthropology degree, she and her children follwed Barack's stepfather to Indonesia, a move she embraced with enthusiasm. Living in Indonesia gave root to Ann's burgeoning social consience, and she became an advocate for the poverty-stricken and for women in general. Her work and passion for these causes never interfered with her dedication to parenting; while he lived in Indonesia, Barack's mother would awaken him daily at 4 am so he could take a correspondence course in English, a subject not offered in Jakarta for obvious reasons. She worked to grow the social awareness of both her children, using their surroundings as a learning tool. She also, in an effort to keep Barack plugged into his own heritage, gave him books, read to him, and discussed with him the heritage of black America and Kenya. She never wanted him to be less than proud of who he was and encouraged him to embrace all the pieces of himself as openly as she always did. Barack still spent time in Hawaii with his grandparents; when he started high school he asked his mother to allow him to stay with them and attend an American school. She agreed, although she communicated often to friends that it was the hardest decision she'd ever had to make. They spoke on the phone often, wrote many letters, and Ann's friends and coworkers still remember the pride with which she would talk about her son. By leaving him in Hawaii to further his education academically, Barack's mother put his interests before her own, which is, of course, what any good mother would do. Unfortunately Ann and her Indonesian husband grew apart and divorced, but she never lost her heart for the country and its people. She never, to the end of her life, lost her passion and enthusiasm for the diversity of humanity. "She did her best to find beauty and kinship in unexpected places," commented her daughter Maya. She was not a personally ambitious woman, she didn't seek to "rule the world," but she was a "big thinker," asserts a friend, "the kind who saw a world without ethnic boundries." When Ann was in her early fifties she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer; she died at age 53, an age far too young for the world to be deprived of her greater view. But she left behind Maya, who is an anthropologist herself, and Barack, who of course took the lessons he learned from her words and her actions-by the way she lived her life-and has applied them with glaring success. I think Ann would be fine with his bid for the Presidency, even proud, but mostly she'd want her son to remember what she considered to be her own life's mantra. She believed a life can only be measured by one's level of service to others, that working towards the greater good is the only true measure of a life well lived. I want the son of this mother for my President. |
| *After "playlisting" songs from the musical, posting my story about it on another site and then-how's this for coincidence-discovering the show running on television last night, I unearthed some blog entries from almost two years ago, spiced them up and revamped them, and actually submitted this elsewhere as an essay. I couldn't resist sharing the "upgraded" version here:* Will I lose my dignity- Will someone care? Will I wake tomorrow- from this nightmare? -from the musical "Rent" Rent was written and first performed during a time when the most creative and artistic members of our society were being erradicated at an alarming rate, when suspicion about the disease doing this relentless damage was still rampant and the words "HIV positive" were enough to send mainstream Americans surrying for the locks on their front doors. Those acronyms- HIV and AIDS- don't strike fear into the hearts of people, today. In fact there might be some out there who would crinkle their brows in a sort of dim confusion before realization would dawn and the issue would be pushed aside. Here in the medication- and pharmacy-friendly U.S., HIV is no longer considered a killer. People aren't dropping like flies the way they did at first. There are drug cocktails now that can keep people who are HIV positive from developing full-blown AIDS for quite some time, but like cancer, quite often the drugs that prevent can also cause. They cause nausea, vomiting, headaches..It's often a conundrum for those who suffer. Africa is by far the greatest loser in the AIDS epidemic. Literally millions have perished because of a simple lack of education, and because they live in poverty. Generic brands of medication are slowly making their way to more rural parts of the world, but it's been way too long and too many children are growing up alone, orphans of AIDS. In 2006 it was estimated that a total of 40.3 million people were living with HIV and 25 million have died of AIDS since its onset. Tthe drug cocktail which currently seems to deem HIV as "chronic" rather than "fatal" is not a cure. There are now young people being infected with a form of the virus that is proving to be resistant to treatment...did you know THAT? Taking a look back at its inception... In 1981 the Centers for Disease Control reported that five gay men in the US were suffering and later died of a mysterious illness. The news was barely given a back page by most large-to-small newspapers. For several years following the outbreak of AIDS, it was seen as the "gay man's cancer" and dismissed by almost everyone outside the gay community...even IN the gay community! No one wanted to acknowledge a disease that was being spread by a faction of society no one wished to acknowledge, and gay men didn't want the added stigma of it. The US only became even partially sympathetic as a whole when *gasp* Rock Hudson contracted the disease; then speculation about HOW it was spread became intensely debatable. 36% of Americans still think HIV can be "caught" from a toilet seat or from kissing-it can't; It is only spread through blood-sharing and bodily fluids that DON'T come from the mouth. The health care industry wasn't slow to respond to AIDS, quite the contrary. Scientists and researchers for infectious diseases traveled the globe trying to discover the origin of this killer and worked tirelessly to find out what exactly we were battling. When officials from the CDC excitedly contacted the Reagan Administration about the discovery of HIV and just how it was spread, they were met by an ASSISTANT secretary of Health and told they should look into its spread by mosquitos. Ludicrous. One CDC official wrote in his memoirs that he was "stunned by the depth of denial." And WHY? Why did so many, many people have to die before countries around the world-including the developed ones-started to take AIDS seriously? It's a question that galls me. Doctors, health care providers, researchers and scientists were not slow to react. The foot-dragging came directly from politicians. The majority of our politicans are ultra concerned about "their image," and I have to ask myself: Is this a disease that has truly tested our mortality or our humanity? I am intensely angered by those who uttered phrases like "The homosexuals have declared war against nature, and now nature is exacting its retibution." A direct quote from "the moral majority." I am not without sin and I can't begin to judge anyone else for anything. I find it difficult to understand my fellow "Christians" who stand in judgement and censure. Christ walked amongst lepers and counseled to prostitutes as well as "the common man". He emersed himself into humanity-ALL of it-and preached what? Not censure, but love. Not judgement, but forgiveness. The bible holds the phrase "love one another" over 700 times; that can't be an accident. AIDS is not a disease with any scarlett letter. It persistently finds women, children, heterosexual men, famous basketball players, mothers, grandmothers...disease has no prejudice, knowledge, or caring for the lifestyle choices of its host. Be safe, be aware, be informed, and don't be lulled into thinking we've conquered this heinous killer. We haven't. |
| I wondered, after my last entry, if I left the wrong impression of myself... It's true that I don't like "confrontation" just for the sake of it. For me to become confrontational there has to be something I consider important at stake, and by "confrontation" I mean the kind where I know I'm going to clash with another person and engage in argumentation. I'm a debator from way back-high school to be exact-and the formal debate is all ABOUT confrontation. There's nothing I like better than standing up, speaking rings around an opponant, and walking away victorious. Actually, there is little in this world that feels better to me-I love to win and I love to win with words and better facts most of all But one-on-one is different, especially when it means clashing with someone I like and/or respect. THAT is the sort of confrontation I'm not terribly fond of and avoid when I can. I enjoy sharing ideas and beliefs when I know the person I'm sharing with will be as accepting of my differing opinions as I am of his, but so often that is not the case. Even in a college philosophy class several years ago, when I went up against a young woman in a phiosophical debate at the teacher's behest, she took the issues personally and the fact that I won...she never spoke to me again. I don't understand the inability of many to be accepting of opinions and ideas which are different. Supposedly intelligent, well-read, learned types who are otherwise full of common sense and practicality can be turned into argumenative adolescents when their beliefs are challenged. The sad fact is that these people don't wear signs advertizing their sensitivity (if they did a good one might be Caution: I Take Differing Opinions Personally). And THAT is why one-on-one confrontation is difficult for me. I don't like dealing with the ones who personalize and wind their self esteem and self worth issues into the mix. I don't like making someone else feel "threatented" and I certainly am not fond of being verbally attacked simply because I don't agree. And since I have a lot of opinions about a lot of stuff, the chance that I will offend someone of this type is great. I also don't like arguing or "bickering" just for the sake of it. If I can achieve the same result through simple communication-explaining myself clearly-there is no cause for "the clash" of confrontation. And for this reason I was not happy with myself last weekend; communication took a back seat to that "because I said so" kind of mentality. Ick So I'm not the kind of person to shirk a good debate, and I'm not the kind of person who doesn't speak her mind because she "doesn't want to offend anyone." Nope. I just don't like verbal assaults anymore than physical ones. They both do damage. |
| I don't know if that online altercation started it or if I was already "in that place," but the last five days or so have been frought, in my world, with confrontation. I'm not a big fan of confrontation. I don't seek it out; in fact, I usually bury negative emotions and gloss over them when it comes to one-on-one relationships. At the same time though, I'm not good at keeping how I really feel to myself--and when it's about something bigger than myself, some "cause" I believe is worthy of advocating and championing, I swallow the non-confrontational part of me and surge forward... I'm dedicated to putting my "best" out here for everyone and everything I consider important, but even when I do have to engage in any sort of "confrontational" mode, I try to justify it with reasons why. now five days ago... The altercations began with that old boyfriend through e-mail. Don't ever believe someone who assures you he "won't take it personally" when politics are involved. Especially if that someone is adamant in his beliefs, so much that he's not only a member of the Republican party in his state, he's a chairman of one of the state's chapter organizations. He even knows "Ahnold." Yup, I should have known. But I "took the bait" one day a week or so ago and we started an online debate that I ultimately put an end to. I could tell he wouldn't be swayed by me, I wouldn't by him, and the bristling-on his side-was palpable. Cut to the e-mail on Thursday...designed to wound, no question, in a personal way that had me seeing more than one shade of crimson. I fired off my own intent-to-cut response and it got bad...it's amazing how well people who've known each other for over 30 years have the ability to do serious damage to each other  I was crushed. I thought we'd never get through the harm we'd done to each other and any relationship--but again, people who have known each other for so long--it's easy to forgive when the "I'm sorrys" have been distributed. Is it the same? No. But relationships seldom DO remain stagnate, anyway. Who knows where it will go from here. At least we're still communicating. On the heels of all this I began a "no holds barred" campaign for some reason I still can't discern. I got into an argument with my oldest daughter that I should have handled so much better, the other girls were not spared from my confrontational behavior, and even a wdc friend was on the receiving end of a less-than-kind communication. I have been frustrated by this individual's recent lax attituded concerning what I thought was a pretty close friendship, but again I could have handled the situation better. What got into me?? The last five days have highlighted something in me I didn't know was lurking and I don't like it--but then I think. I give my "best" in every situation "out here." Hmmm. What's left for me?! Maybe I simply need to take a step back from all my "causes" and hold on to some of that "best." Otherwise I'll give myself an ulcer over all this "confrontation" nonsense. |
| I had a plan to write about something far more controversial than the entry you are about to read. Events late this afternoon changed my mind. I'll still write the entry I'd intended at a later date, but I just can't take any more conflict at this point. I became a member of an Obama forum, supposedly designed to allow fellow supporters a chance to commisserate and chat. I wrote one very short thread about becoming an informed voter and a shorter explanation of why I believe Obama to be the desirable candidate for this upcoming Presidential election. And then I got slammed  It happened in print of course, and the target wasn't even me, but I'm not a fan of rude language and juvenile posturing, which was exactly what occurred. One young man commented, very eloquently, that since I am a writer I should do the research necessary and create comparison/contrast essays highlighting the issues and each candidate's stance, being as fair as possible to each one so that anyone who read the paper could understand clearly the platform of each candidate I thought it was an inspired idea and wondered why I hadn't thought of it myself! I wrote to thank him and informed him I'd be doing what he suggested. I felt good about the connection. But not too long after his posting, someone else commented a diatribe against the young man, claiming he was being "a jerk" to use a much nicer term than any she did. I was absolutely appalled! I saw absolutely NOTHING inflammatory about his words or suggestion, nothing to indicate he thought he was "better than the average person" as she ranted. I was bewildered and offended by her language. Yet another comment after that one STILL blasted this poor kid! She tried to intimate I was somehow "on her side" in this entire nonsense. I couldn't believe my simple thread had become some sort of jr high verbal fight club! The original commenter wrote his own bewilderment at the attacks in another comment. Another commenter tried to "gush" everyone down after which I posted my own. comment in the mess. Here's what I posted: Okay, I have no idea where all that originated. I thought the young man's idea to write a comparison/contrast sort of essay about the candidates was inspired and I did indeed thank him for the idea! I'm actually pretty pumped about doing it, so everyone take a deep breath please. I'm not into this confrontational argumentative stuff--we voice our opinioins and comments in an adult manner; if we can't do that what are we doing here and how in the WORLD can we help the candidate of our choice? I enjoy feedback of all kinds and I never take offense unless offense is intended. Even then it more often bewilders me because that is not what a forum is supposed to be about. Give-and-take and an open exchange of ideas and suggestions--the definition of "helpful comment." Okay?? Now I hope I didn't offend anyone because I have no intention of that EVER. I state my opinions, research facts, and present them in what I hope is an entertaining/informative manner. Period. Love, everyone. Obama is about PEACE! The commenter who fired up the whole thing wrote back a petulant sort of comment basically stating "I'm not gonna play with you" and miffed her way into the sunset. When I spoke of this ridiculous incident to Rachael, she nodded her head sagely and said, "yeah, I come up against that sort of thing constantly." She is an Obama supporter like me and fiercely political, more so than me *ah the passion of youth*. And believe me she made up her OWN mind-we just happen to agree. But she told me story after story concerning the same kind of rude name-calling, cursing at others who don't share the same ideas, and basically juvenile, ludicrous, downright nasty attitudes...on political forums!!! I don't get it. PS: I visited the homepage, on this forum site, of the woman who was the instigator of the whole thing. Her age range was 40-45. Age can't even be an excuse. Only stupidity and a horribly nasty attitude. Nice lesson for the younger ones.  |
| I am blessed. I don't know how I can have any complaints ever--if friends make life worth living I have endless reasons to embrace every single day Thinking about so many of you here and the care I feel when I need it most brings tears to my eyes. I once told my friend Mandy that if I had as many wondeful friends in close proximity I'd be in trouble because all I'd ever do is "get together" with wonderful people who feed my soul! Thank God I experience a life full of people who remind me what's sweet about the world. Now I'm going to share something my beautiful friend Mandy wrote over at her -space. She is someone who knows what I need before I voice it, who reads me and knows me and loves me anyway. Now THAT'S a friend She and I also "see" things very similarly...and then sometimes she reminds me to take off the dark glasses and look up, see what can be truly beautiful...I share such a moment with you now:During recess duty the other day, a very determined first-grader began running in my direction. I fully anticipated the usual request to use the restroom, see the nurse, get a drink of water or assist with a button, zipper or shoelace. If she didn't have a request, surely I was going to get a complete run-down on how one of her peers had wronged her in some way. Instead, what she said completely floored me. She looked up at the sky, looked at me and stated, "The stars are still out. It's just too bright to see 'em." Then she ran off to enjoy the last few minutes of recess with her friends and left me standing there to meditate on what she had said. It was just a moment but it had a lasting and profound effect on me. We as parents and educators have a responsibility to teach and nurture our children. We also need to pause, listen, watch and learn from them so that we can be reminded what it means to enjoy life. No wonder Jesus taught that we should come to God as children. To be more child-like we should.... ...love unconditionally. ...appreciate the beauty of nature. ...trust completely. ...play to the point of complete exhaustion. ...cherish our friendships. ...live in the moment and not worry about tomorrow. ...dream big and believe that we can do anything. ...thrill at the chance to play in the snow or jump in rain puddles. ...love learning new things and soak up knowledge like a sponge. ...wake up eager to begin each day. ...delight in the simple things. ...greet everyone with a sincere and enthusiastic smile. ...accept hugs when they are offered and allow others to take care of us when we hurt. ...have an adventerous spirit. ...be spontaneous. ...be curious. ...and take moments to ponder that the stars are always there, sometimes it's just too bright to see 'em. She posted this in her myspace blog and I received permission from her to "reprint" it here. She's in my "friends" over there and I invite you to visit her -space. It's uplifting. |
| ...that I have spelling tourette's?? I post something I fire off and when I take a look at it a couple of days-or even a day-later I always blurt "oops!" It's sort of embarrassing when I consider that I was a spelling champ all through school...and here I am misspelling on the WRITING site right and left *no pun intended...okay yes there was* My elementary teachers would never believe my ghastly spelling disease. I think it's because I try to type as fast as I think, and inevitably slips happen, most of which I don't catch. I just wanted to mention it. I DO know how to spell--seriously! I went through every spelling book and had to be given others by the time I was in the sixth grade--truly!! Believe me!!! PS: Tornado afternoon...ah, spring in the Midwest. If I blow away I'll let you knowl... |
| Have you been grocery shopping lately? A year ago I thought I must be delusional-one day I was paying 70 cents for a dozen eggs. The next week I was paying 1.68 I usually shop at my local Commissary. For those of you not "in the know," that's the military-sponsored store designed to give military families a price break on food items. We don't pay what even WalMart charges because food manufacturers sell to the Commissary at cost and the Commissary doesn't work for a profit. We pay less and don't pay tax-there is a surcharge added to the bill in the interest of "doing business" for the store, however, so we DO pay "tax," just not the state kind. So the price of eggs at first doubled, then tripled. Then I noticed our "bargain bread" disappeared from the shelves and I'm now expected to pay almost two dollars for one stinkin' loaf! The price of cheese, meat, frozen food, toilet paper, pet food... Should we even TALK about the jump in the price of milk?? A bowl of cereal is so much more valuable today than it was a year ago *tongue-in-cheek." I went off the Arsenal and tried shopping at Aldi, the biggest bargain food store in the world-it's a German chain for those who don't know-but even THEIR prices have become, well, ridiculous when you think about the fact that the items they sell aren't even name brand! I have also frequented WalMart and our other local food store, HyVee, in the fruitless attempt to quit paying MORE for LESS. I'm cutting coupons, something I haven't done since my first two were in diapers. It's necessary. The "economy" guy on national news shows started talking "inflation" and "recession" at the end of last summer. I rolled my eyes and replied "no kidding" to the television. Now, almost a year later, they're "reporting" about the crazy jump in food prices. I could have reported it a year ago. Guess what? We're in a RECESSION! *captain obvious speaking to Sargeant Oblvivious* When was the last time they went gorcery shopping?!? |
| I'm a little late, but "better late" and all that... It used to be that I didn't pay too much attention to something like "Earth Day." I can't pinpiont why, but ecology and all that never fired my easily stoked passions for some reason. Getting older changes us, doesn't it? I started to realize-belatedly-that the Earth takes care of US and we need to take care of IT. We need to ensure our children's children have the chance to walk on lush grass, surrounded by healthy trees, endless blue sky, vegetation mixing their odors up our noses making us occassionally sneeze...they even need the opportunity to wave a hand in front of their faces to dispell those pesky little flying bugs! It's a great world and we need to Pass It On: They paved paradise and put up a parkin' lot With a pink hotel, a boutique, and a swingin' hot spot Don't it always seem to go That you don't know what you got till it's gone They paved paradise and put up a parkin' lot They took all the trees, and put em in a tree museum And they charged the people a dollar and a half to see them No, no, no, don't it always seem to go That you don't know what you've got till it's gone They paved paradise, and put up a parkin' lot Hey farmer, farmer, put away your DDT I don't care about spots on my apples, Leave me the birds and the bees - please Don't it always seem to go That you don't know what you got till it's gone They paved paradise and put up a parking lot Hey now, they've paved paradise to put up a parking lot Why not? Listen, late last night, I heard the screen door swing, And a big yellow taxi took my girl away Now don't it always seem to go That you don't know what you got till it's gone They paved paradise and put up a parking lot Hey now now, don't it always seem to go That you don't know what you got till it's gone They paved paradise to put up a parking lot Why not, they paved paradise They put up a parking lot Hey hey hey, paved paradise and put up a parking lot I don't wanna give it Why you wanna give it Why you wanna givin it all away Hey, hey, hey Now you wanna give it I should wanna give it Cuz you're givin it all away, no no I don't wanna give it Why you wanna give it Why you wanna givin it all away Cuz you're givin it all givin it all away yeah yeah Cuz You're givin it all away hey, hey, hey Hey, paved paradise, to put up a parking lot la,la, la, la, la, la, la ,la ,la ,la ,la Paved paradise, and put up a parking lot -performed by Counting Crows PS: I LOVED the movie Two Weeks Notice...it's a fun love story AND a good Earth Day movie (the fact that Hugh Grant in ANYTHING causes my tongue to roll down to the floor has NOTHING to do with it) |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
I know I'm not around much, and it's due to a myriad of things, but you know you can ALWAYS, always contact me here or on myspace, or whatnot. You're a kindred soul to me, you've helped me keep sanity even when you needed to keep your sanity just as much. You truly are a virtual best friend Susan. If you decide to move on with your life and meet new horizons, please remember me, and don't hesitate to keep me updated in some fashion please. 
