Where in the hell do I begin? 6 months of a hiatus has left me struggling to decide where to....I apologize profusely and I wish it could be attributed to stories of exotic world travels, meditational retreats to Tibet or a huge financial win fall in the form of the lottery....but alas. And don't go checking your mail box for a check just in case....not yet anyway.
Nothing kept me away except pure laziness, procrastination and utter boob tube time. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let's start with how I ended 2012 a little more enlightened than I started in spite of my fat ass staying a little less fat. And how I rang in 2013 ...in holey pj's on my couch as usual...but the first time with my husband...and I actually lasted to 12 o'clock....however, I digress....so let's look at what I did manage to search and the following pertinent things about that were found about myself:
-I am way cooler sometimes than I realize
-I turned 30 and the world didn't implode and I didn't suddenly feel different
-I still have very little friends and I am finally ok with that because the few I have are the real deal and are here to stay....even thousands of miles away...or right around the block
-one of those friends is my mother. yes, I am one of those people. But don't expect matching boob jobs or tattoos....just maybe matching broomsticks
-yes, I do want one more baby and it ain't nobody's business but my own....but I will take your suggestions and opinions into consideration...and then move to the deleted box
-my flirtation with veganism is ongoing, but I am a victim to death by cheese and bread
-marriage is a constant work in progress....but sometimes worth the fighting and shouting..and sex
-being unable to say no to the Man led me to a well deserved promotion
-I still have no idea what I want to be when I grow up....but growing up isn't something I am rushing to do because I am having one hell of a time as a immature adolescent
-everything happens for a reason. NO DOUBT IN THIS.
Ok-so that being said let's start with the fact that I spent the last six months working my keester off at work, off at home and the laundry still gets washed and folded by someone else. What can I say? I am no domestic goddess. But I had the past few months to experience some really awesome stuff....seeing my name in print for the first time...without some sick twisted fantasy to accompany it. And it is refreshing to write about real people. Ones who aren't as screwed up as the ones in my mind.
It was working towards my daughter coming to terms with where she comes from...and still being strong enough to realize that isn't what defines her. Or what makes her who she is. It's letting her know that being different isn't being wrong. And sometimes this is difficult concept for others to understand...and even more difficult for yourself. And just sometimes that's ok too. For the clawing and scratching it took to get her to find her voice....and use it LOUD AND PROUD...without the rage, anguish and shame that accompanied it for so long.
It was 6 months of money and time wasted to realize that my son is perfectly unique and not fitting into the standards they set for him didn't stop him from showing them what he is capable of...and that's being a super caped avenger who LOVES his PB&J....only on white! It's realizing I need to sometimes listen to my heart and not my head...especially when my heart is so much stronger and intuitive than my head and its voices of doubt. It's becoming more in awe of my own capability to love others especially when faced with adversity and the fierce and overpowering urge to beat the shit out of anyone who calls my kid retarded or different...or crazy. And knowing I could and would win over a 300 lb gorilla because of the sheer adrenaline brought on by said love.
It's marking 6 years with someone whose socks I tolerate in bed and shoes I trip over by the front door....it's 6 years of realizing love is appreciating and relishing in what you do have....and not comparing it constantly to what you don't have...or think you don't have. It's appreciating with highest level of appreciation that sneaked nights out with quiet little dives with real napkins and an hour for hair and makeup fall second to Sunday mornings in complete with pancakes, eggs and eight feet in the bed....
It's recognizing the limitations of my time and body, but recognizing the need to feel the best I can...for myself, for my confidence, for my partner and for my children......so I too can live to be 93 and still drive a car.
It's 6 months of another year that flowed into another and it's just that...another year. Just a calendar. It's realizing that this might not be crowned my year or THE year necessarily, but it's my life, THIS life....and I am going make one hell of an attempt to make it worth something....I'm just still stuck on finding out what that worth, what that something is.
I just hope you stay along for the ride, to accompany me on searching for what it is I am looking for....and letting me know if you find it before me. Or at the very least rub it in my face a few times?
(Notice the missing profanity I normally have....trying out avoiding the f word for a while...see how long I last)
Anyway- I end hoping you got as big a laugh as I did about the whole end of the world thing....You'd think if the Mayans had it right they would have seen the whole Columbus thing....or the Twinkie thing. Don't really know which was more scary.
Monday, January 14, 2013
The lost episode of crazy.....not found in the extras DVD
Let me start this blog by saying that I realize summer is over and I have been achingly and glaringly absent and to my one (and only probably at this point) fan I apologize. I was going to rip off some rhyme about no more teachers dirty looks and so on...you get the gist, but really what's the point? It's been over 5 months since I spout anything worth wasting your time on....and even longer since I spewed anything worth wasting your time on TWICE. Anyone in the mood for pea soup yet? Just the use of spew makes me think of it....side tracking aside, seriously, I don't know what got into me...or out of me...what does that saying "into me" really mean? As if some demon has possessed my skin, and crawled in like some attack of a body snatcher which you would think would control stranger noises reverberating from my mouth and fast seizures of Vatican drama??? Or shouldn't it be "out of me" as if to imply that some piece of my psyche or even a sliver of my brain has seeped out, is bouncing around in the atmosphere and that would explain my forget fullness??? Either way, something is up with me and its the reason I fell of the planet, the reason I failed at completing or following yet another well laid plan....its the reason I sit here tonight at 10:00 pm motivated to get it done....the whole time worrying when I will muster the energy or courage for another.
This growing absence and inability to maintain a pattern or routine is gnawing away at me....I mean here I am going on 2 posts in 5 months and all the wonderful, fantastical ideas that normally flowed straight to paper are now becoming lost in the growing fat cells of my brain, thighs and ass.....and the ass part is especially horrifying seeing as how I will be 30 in two months and had pictured myself ringing in 30 with a more exciting body and life.....
What can I say? I've lost the momentum to keep writing even about the boring and trivial bullshit of adulthood....even I cannot stomach listening to the same things over and over....so I recently I craved for something, a wrench to throw into the monotony....and so it was I managed to steal about 5 seconds for myself and as I stood in front of the bookshelf wondering which literary genre would break me from this spell, I glanced upon a frivolous and spontaneous purchase....the Story of O. Mind you it was 1 am on a Saturday night and FINALLY everyone in my home was asleep. I was just looking for something to break my mommy-hasn't-left-the-house-without-sweats-funk and just happened to fall on it....and no perverts, it wasn't intentional....but wasn't unwelcome either....
It was a frivolous and spontaneous purchase because eons ago when I was a college kid I took a Human Sexuality course, and we were required to do a paper based on something from the required reading list.....well while searching for my chosen text on sexual slavery I happened upon one of the most antiquated bookstores, 1/4 books, tucked away in a little store right before the freeway on Shepherd.....anyway-I was kind of on a roll and decided to broaden my paper (plus flush out the length) by adding more material from other references.The quiet little nerdy mustached book clerk saw me weaving back and forth through stacks and after a quick glance at the growing titles in my arms, he reached behind the counter and plucked a white hardback from a shelf. A simple white and black dusk jacket boldly read the Story of O by Pauline Reage. I am no idiot and have long heard of the scandalous novel and I quivered and trembled in anticipation as he handed me the book.
I purchased it with my other books and spent the next 4 days and nights plowing through my required reading before I finally had down time for O. Needless to say if you have never read the book, you should. The misconception is that it is pornographic-it is, but not in a 21st century way. The book is eloquent and articulate, not crude in describing O's descent into S&M and ultimate enslavement....or is it? The argument that she isn't a slave to Rene or Sir Stephen at all, but they are to her....well anyway-it was a highly intellectually stimulating novel...and it didn't lack in the other department either.
Well 5 years has passed since that original reading....and here I was standing there gravitating toward it and I realized it was just what I needed to get me off the couch....just what I needed to remind myself that I had fallen into some boring pattern, and there I was laying in a cooling bubble bath, sipping my tea, realizing I didn't have to be prey to a boring pattern or routine...
How you wonder did reading an X rated novel get me there? Where did I connect A to B? Well even I cannot tell you without coming off as pompous and an asshole....of which I am neither. Merely it was the fact that I had not allowed myself to read anything that shocking or graphic in so long I realized I was becoming boring myself.
Life is messy and exciting and calm and peaceful, but never boring. It shouldn't be....not the exciting, thrill seeking sort of way that used to keep me as high as a kite, but the exciting everyday is like your last...that everyday has this newness, this vitality, this something about that makes you realize it will never be the same...or rather it cannot be recreated, no matter how hard you try. Anyway, the Story of O reminded me of this and I spent the next three months of summer devouring every book I could squeeze in my free time from my shelf and reacquainted myself to Elizabeth. The Elizabeth who used to remember what it was to feel alive...to feel anything...
That feeling anything led to a rush of emotions and flood gate that crashed allowing me the next few months to find myself again....or to grow up. Whichever sounds more noble....and which led to this September post not making it in until 2013....
stay tuned for the newest episode of crazy....it will premier shortly....and hopefully be way more worth wasting your time in devouring than this one....over six months too fucking late.
This growing absence and inability to maintain a pattern or routine is gnawing away at me....I mean here I am going on 2 posts in 5 months and all the wonderful, fantastical ideas that normally flowed straight to paper are now becoming lost in the growing fat cells of my brain, thighs and ass.....and the ass part is especially horrifying seeing as how I will be 30 in two months and had pictured myself ringing in 30 with a more exciting body and life.....
What can I say? I've lost the momentum to keep writing even about the boring and trivial bullshit of adulthood....even I cannot stomach listening to the same things over and over....so I recently I craved for something, a wrench to throw into the monotony....and so it was I managed to steal about 5 seconds for myself and as I stood in front of the bookshelf wondering which literary genre would break me from this spell, I glanced upon a frivolous and spontaneous purchase....the Story of O. Mind you it was 1 am on a Saturday night and FINALLY everyone in my home was asleep. I was just looking for something to break my mommy-hasn't-left-the-house-without-sweats-funk and just happened to fall on it....and no perverts, it wasn't intentional....but wasn't unwelcome either....
It was a frivolous and spontaneous purchase because eons ago when I was a college kid I took a Human Sexuality course, and we were required to do a paper based on something from the required reading list.....well while searching for my chosen text on sexual slavery I happened upon one of the most antiquated bookstores, 1/4 books, tucked away in a little store right before the freeway on Shepherd.....anyway-I was kind of on a roll and decided to broaden my paper (plus flush out the length) by adding more material from other references.The quiet little nerdy mustached book clerk saw me weaving back and forth through stacks and after a quick glance at the growing titles in my arms, he reached behind the counter and plucked a white hardback from a shelf. A simple white and black dusk jacket boldly read the Story of O by Pauline Reage. I am no idiot and have long heard of the scandalous novel and I quivered and trembled in anticipation as he handed me the book.
I purchased it with my other books and spent the next 4 days and nights plowing through my required reading before I finally had down time for O. Needless to say if you have never read the book, you should. The misconception is that it is pornographic-it is, but not in a 21st century way. The book is eloquent and articulate, not crude in describing O's descent into S&M and ultimate enslavement....or is it? The argument that she isn't a slave to Rene or Sir Stephen at all, but they are to her....well anyway-it was a highly intellectually stimulating novel...and it didn't lack in the other department either.
Well 5 years has passed since that original reading....and here I was standing there gravitating toward it and I realized it was just what I needed to get me off the couch....just what I needed to remind myself that I had fallen into some boring pattern, and there I was laying in a cooling bubble bath, sipping my tea, realizing I didn't have to be prey to a boring pattern or routine...
How you wonder did reading an X rated novel get me there? Where did I connect A to B? Well even I cannot tell you without coming off as pompous and an asshole....of which I am neither. Merely it was the fact that I had not allowed myself to read anything that shocking or graphic in so long I realized I was becoming boring myself.
Life is messy and exciting and calm and peaceful, but never boring. It shouldn't be....not the exciting, thrill seeking sort of way that used to keep me as high as a kite, but the exciting everyday is like your last...that everyday has this newness, this vitality, this something about that makes you realize it will never be the same...or rather it cannot be recreated, no matter how hard you try. Anyway, the Story of O reminded me of this and I spent the next three months of summer devouring every book I could squeeze in my free time from my shelf and reacquainted myself to Elizabeth. The Elizabeth who used to remember what it was to feel alive...to feel anything...
That feeling anything led to a rush of emotions and flood gate that crashed allowing me the next few months to find myself again....or to grow up. Whichever sounds more noble....and which led to this September post not making it in until 2013....
stay tuned for the newest episode of crazy....it will premier shortly....and hopefully be way more worth wasting your time in devouring than this one....over six months too fucking late.
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