Monthly Archives: March 2009

Springolicious

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cherry_blossom_tree

This Picture has been swiped off the Internet. Had this been a real flowering tree in my neighborhood, I'd still be sitting under it.

For those of you that live down South, yes you, the people that have been gloating and posting beautiful pictures of spring flowers and teasing us cold Northern friends with tales of 80 degree weather, running through the sprinklers to cool off and sunbathing on the beach, (you know who you are)……this entry is not intended to evoke further poking of your green Southern Spring Stick in thy cold Northern eye.

Resist I say, Resist!!!

I found a few little purple crocus flowers peeking up through all the dark and stark brown everywhere.

The temps reached an amazing 70 degrees yesterday (That’s a heat wave by my current frozen standards)

The birds were chirping and announced their recent return. Even the damn terrorist squirrels have been out sunning themselves and doing a little spring nest cleaning. They almost look innocent, but I’m not fooled,  they are simply waiting for me to put out my summer furniture so they can commence with shredding cushion seats up for the highly valuable stuffing.

For the first time in months I hustled all six of my pets outside and no one was staring ten seconds later through the glass door with pleading eyes that said, “Good God Lady , it’s freaking cold out here! Let me back in!” Cats and Dogs alike stayed outside, mostly belly up to the sun, enjoying a little spring sensation. The delightful bums.

I think some sort of Spring Voodoo has overcome me as well. I’ve been doing things that are highly out of character for me and irreversible.   The two major spring spells that influenced radical changes are as follows:

  • I’ve shared some of my ‘writing’ with a few people. Things I’ve written, story type papers. I’ve asked for input and editing. I’ve requested critique and opinion! Now, that may seem insignificant to most considering how much I write, but in my little sheltered bubble, this is a first. A banner moment. Sharing in a support group for the first time sort of big deal. I have never, ever, done such an act of bravery on the writing front. Now, I’m not sure if this is a parting of the sea moment where I’ll be walking across the ocean floor to get to a better side, or if I’ve brought on a crack in the earth and I’m falling to a fire and brimstone oblivion. Time will reveal all and hopefully I’ll be able to swallow again in the next few days.

And for my second undeniably Spring Possessed Action

  • After 5 years of blogging behind closed doors, hiding this zone of obscurity from 3-d family and friends, I revealed this website to my parents last night along (gasp) with some writing as well. My Mother is a beautiful writer and an extraordinary editor, so it’s about time I let her have a go with my work. After explaining what I’ve been doing all this time in the big landscape of Internet, plus throwing out a long list of ‘be prepared’ cautions,  I turned on their computer and showed them the map to get here. I took them on the grand tour and showed them how to sign up for the feed. It’s official, now, the family is here!

Welcome to my zone Momma Anna and Father Dan (waving) don’t say I didn’t warn you~ (oh, and I’m adding here a sweet princess daughter Rebecca smile. :o )  the one that lets me get away with anything) I swear, I’ve never wrote anything to bring shame on the family ( I don’t think anyway) and have only wrote nice things about everyone once in awhile. There are long time readers that could even vouch for me on my innocence if needed~~ Just think, I could have sat you down and revealed to you that I was moving to France to become a nun, or that I had been secretely working as a stripper on weekends. Right??

 It’s all good. I’ve been good. I promise. Love to You both.

Oh Sweet Memories

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Shelby, ” Mom, please don’t talk, gasp, groan, cry out or exhale loudly and please turn your cell phone off”

Mamma Me, ” I swear, you won’t hear a peep outta me. I pledge a vow of silence”

Shelby, “In fact, make sure you sit behind my seat, not behind the Driving Test guy. That way I won’t even see a fraction of your face. I’m sooooo nervous and you make it a thousand times worse” (she’s nervous?? I took a Valium before we left the house)

We arrive for the official Driving Test, so that my daughter can pass with flying colors and be a driver licenced card carrying citizen.  

Drivers Test Dude, “Ok, we are going to pull out of the parking lot. You’re going to look to your left to check for traffic, and then turn right.”

I have hunkered down in the backseat of my car directly behind Shelby. I have buckled up, and although I’ve taken a vow of silence for the duration of this 20 minute driving test, I chant a few Hail Mary’s (there’s no rule that states you must be Catholic to borrow a fantastic notion, right?) I’m worried before we even leave the parking lot. Shelby, who bless her sweet soul, can be extremely nervous when she’s doing something uncomfortable. She wrings her hands and fidgets, she becomes painfully quiet and bites her bottom lip. She’s been doing that for over an hour prior to showing up to take the drivers test. At this point in time I can feel the nerves vibrating off her like the string on a guitar being played by a 8o’s heavy metal rockstar.  

She eases the car out of the parking lot and starts to turn left…

Driver test Dude, “Stop, stop,” (might as well have been a cops siren)

Shelby slams the break which lurches all three of us forward, not enough to cause whiplash, but enough that Test Dudes clipboard goes flying off his lap. I immediately slink a little lower in my seat and cast my eye’s to the floorboards. Vow of silence has not been broken, score one for the Mother, but I’m incredibly worried about my kid now. If she had any nerves left, I’m pretty certain they just short circuited.

Test Dude, sorta calmly, ”I said, look to your left and turn right. Now, put the car in reverse, back up, then lets try that again and turn right.”

So this is what I know, and during moments when your life suddenly passes before your eye’s, things can get distorted, but I shall try here. Shelby put my car into reverse, she lightly put the gas on and started to back up. All systems go. At that point in time I was still looking at my floorboards thinking I should have them shampooed and I remember the Dude saying, “Stop now.” ( so this is my guess, she was already panicked/jumpy about the first stop, so when he did that, she went to slam the break again, but instead slammed the gas)

So suddenly, there was a reverse  acceleration at a G-force rate of speed backwards into the parking lot. If anyone has ever wondered…. if that whole exorcist head turning on it’s spine in a 180 degree maneuver is possible, I’m here to say,  it is. I don’t think my body moved, but my head spun around to guesstimate what she was going to total my sweet sports car into. My fingers made permanent indentation’s into the leather seats, but by God, I didn’t scream out “OHHH FUCK” or “GOODBYE LIFE” or anything at all! (score two) But Holy Hell, Drivers Test Guy made up for my mandatory silence. He started screaming, “BREAK BREAK BREAK STOP BREAK STOP.” I imagine his foot was flailing for the emergency foot break on the right side of the car, but since they make these kids take the test in their parents car, no dice for him.

With inches (seriously, teenie tiny inches, all I could see out the back window was looming tailgate) to spare, Shelby stopped the car before plowing into the back of a parked pickup truck. We then had 3 seconds of painful silence broken only by Freaked Out Driver Test Dude pulling the emergency break (a little late), unlocking his seat belt and flinging his door open so he could make a dive for it in case the car became possessed again. And my poor Shelby. She was slumped over the steering wheel and I could see her little shoulders moving up and down, hair cloaking her face. I had no idea what would happen next and the silence was killing me.

Drivers Test Dude with a Heart to my silent crying daughter, “Would you like a tissue?”

Believe it or not, after 10 minutes of soul searching, in car therapy and a reassuring hand from the back seat on her shoulder. Shelby was able to finally pull out of the parking lot and ace the actual driving test. She lived. I lived. Test Dude lived and my car lived.

No innocent bystanders (THANK GAWD) were harmed in the making of this infamous Mommyhood memory.

The Hand That Writes

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writing_handI’ve been feeling a bit under the weather all week. One of those, I’m not sick enough to claim “sick”  because I can’t pinpoint what feels wayward, but I’m not feeling great. I’m running a low grade fever, feel weak, headache sporadic and just something……..is off kilter.

Now, I may be a strange individual on this point, but if I’m not feeling well, I want to feel positively rotten so I have every excuse in the book to curl up in bed, round the clock. I want to be surrounded by good drinks, fabulous books, a few DVD’s and let my daughters kick into nurturing mode and spoil me like the good little nurses they can be.  

My current status hardly qualifies for mandatory bed rest, but it’s making it difficult to accomplish much. Motivation is lingering somewhere between I should be doing something, I have no desire to do anything and I’ll try to do something just to feel productive. Since I have a week of that under my belt, I can say it’s like pinging around a room with a blindfold on doing the motions of action and wondering 3 hours later what I’ve been doing the whole time.

I have discovered I do like writing in this state of mind, so a little notebook has been my constant companion. An atmosphere of thoughts that feel foggy and transparent through the mind of a semi-ill consciousness shouldn’t be ignored. Since I have no idea how other minds operate throughout the day, I can only observe my internal monologue with thoughtful observation. It seems when I’m not feeling well my mind kicks into overdrive issuing out sentence after sentence that was previously residing in thy mind vault.

In my world, every story I write is born through a single sentence. That is my ultimate starting place.  I’ve read that other people who write, see an entire timeline of a story or envision characters engaged in an action or reaction. I’ve read some see a scene inside their head like a clip from a movie while others take a circumstance they want to focus on and build around it. That is their beginnings, the  ’it’  that triggers a novel, or poem, or anything they tell others.

 I hear sentences, words piling on top of each other. Inside my head there is a word puzzle thrown on a table, each puzzle  piece is a word and my thoughts are constantly (and I mean, insanely relentlessly) trying to link them up to form a sentence that grabs my attention. Once that sentence is realized, all sorts of creative imaginations start to go from liquid to solid form around. Sentence first…..imagination next.

Now, these sentences can be slippery little suckers. Once the words line up into a single sentence, they march out of my mind in single file formation that I usually get one chance to claim.  I have to be quick to catch them or they’ll escape and fly away from me like wordbirds escaping their cage. (Think word on the tip of  your tongue, but can’t quite recall) This is one of the reasons I usually appear like a super spy with my notebook and pen on my person at all times.

I’ll be out to dinner with a group and one of those sentences will make a break for it and if I don’t capture it on paper, there’s a good chance I won’t remember it an hour later. I’ve had to explain occasionally why I’m listening to someone and rudely start sifting around in my purse for writing utensils, then with a smile and a nod to encourage the other party to continue on, I’ll chicken scratch a sentence down while keeping my eyes trained on them. Makes me wonder how often someone has thought, “Damn, I was talking and she just started writing without even looking at her paper, strange lady” ……..

So that’s it. The starting motivation to all my writing. A single sentence I can build from. Some sentences have inspired short stories, some sentences have 50,000 words behind them and more. Some of my escaped sentences I find beautiful, some I find downright strange and some motivate me to venture forward. Some make it into my online journal and some remain forever barren and alone…..Makes me wonder, does anyone else start stories, books, poems, etc in this manner?

And since I’m sharing today, here are some examples of sentences that have tried to fly away from me but I captured within my notebook………

  • The unexpected embrace of a smile…..
  • The Crucifixion of an idea…….
  • What is the currency of a well intended idea……
  • I bevel my thoughts into the fallacy of memory. Truthful illusions…….
  • I dare not let time be the erosion of my identity…….
  • Umbrella imaginations, that is the world of a child’s mind, and my own? Blanket possibilities…….
  • The fraudulent behaviour of lavender fields……..
  • Wicked world and mercy streets. I’ve often thought those words as the circle in which my truths were based and my all illusions compared…..
  • In the Shadow of the Iris……
  • Provocation of Mine (d) …………(I caressed that one for awhile until it decided it wanted to be a journal name)

Folie à deux

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shhh2big175I’ve noticed a measure of evolution within myself of late. I realize everyone experiences moments of improvement, or backward progression, which makes my shifts neither remarkable or extraordinary. However, paying attention to changes and at best claiming them from time to time feels like a sound notion.

By natural design, I am reclusive and private about my own actions and thoughts. My ’personal quiet’  is notorious among my circles and for that I have always shrugged my shoulders, tossed a smile of distraction and moved onto the next topic. I even have a scary pic of me shhhin one of my kiddoes (proof and smile after the pic)

In my world,  privacy is the crown jewel of self respect and secrets usually resemble a throw rug of shame. There is a relevant difference if anyone stops and thinks about it. Privacy/Secrets. Unless it’s a surprise party or a gift, secrets are rarely good things.  Privacy on the other hand seems like a fading notion of times past when I listen around to the things people are willing to offer up as general conversation.

Since this is public and bound for interpretation, I shall clarify something. I do believe there are experiences, extremely private and personal experiences, that should be shared. While every experience is individual, when there is opportunity to teach other souls, or find solace through sharing, I would always encourage one to venture down that path if I believed it would help others and find individual balance to the experience………

My swing to the extreme of privacy all these years hasn’t exactly been a comforting place. Solitary experience, meaning those moments in a persons life that aren’t shared, tend to take on a life of their own, yet, never formulate into a solid memory of truth. Experience not shared is an embryo of life never quite birthed. Being extreme in anything typically creates an imbalance. And for that reason, I haven’t been a balanced individual.

The shifts I’ve attempted and actually achieved are important (to me)  moments of sharing my madness. From the subtle tones of admitting I was a high school dropout, publicly, to a rather hyperventilating moment of sending a good friend an entire handwritten journal of my thoughts, scribbles, observations, drawings and writings. The Rebecca I used to know would never, ever, have considered opening such windows. And many more examples I’ll spare the room here.

The most interesting change I’ve experienced is sharing my feelings with those that are close to me. Feelings, emotions, all the thoughts inside a person that play tug of war and bind up a persons mentality under the surface of a smile. I can claim that I now start sentences with, “This is what I’m feeling……” and actually finish the emotion verbally. Those that know me express that it’s an interesting change of communication, one they can work from and build off. The truth is, I rarely gave people that opportunity.

Maybe some of this new revolution will filter it’s way into my writing here, maybe only in little slices and dices of sharing, but the most important piece to my shifts in mentality is I am willing……and realize, able…..and it doesn’t feel as violating as I once assumed. Today, I am willing to share the madness (and joy and experience and life) that is me with another, and another and another. That is change, that is shifting and I find it relevant enough to voice~~

Winning is…

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win_love1Winning is……11 books at my doorstep in a big box from Hachette Books. 

Courtesy of Drey from Dreyslibrary(By the way, el potential competition, she’s gives away books, all the time, so if you want a piece of the action, I’d suggest getting over there)

Now, here’s the problem with being politically correct in winning. One is supposed to accept their award/prize with grace and humility. They should keep the understanding and sociable norm dangling an inch from their nose and be respectful of those that clearly came up short. Basically, winners should shut up, smile politely and refrain from gloating, yelling, or displaying any form of the electric slide, moonwalk, or rump shaker.

The good news is, no one was home when I got my prize in the mail. Therefore, there is no audio or visual evidence of any such actions on my part. The bad news is I can’t resist this one little outburst. ” I won, I won, I actually (insert exuberant cuss word here) WON.”

Speaking of winning. I’ve got my eye on another prize out here in Internet Land. The fun thing about this contest is the blog owner ((and I’m sure Heather didn’t expect a few of us to come up comment swinging like we have)), opened her contest up to as many comments as one makes, that’s how many entries they get. ~~Comment Frenzy~~

Now, in case you feel the urge to visit this contest once your done here, let me give you a hint. At the top of said entry it says two things. 1) If your 18 …do not scroll down and 2) If your uncomfortable about the topic of sex, move along…. to another warm and cozy atmosphere. All right, I added that last part. I do think she should have added a number 3…no boyz allowed. But I’m sure I’m just saying that because of some of my more uncensored comments. Anyway….Go Forth and see what the buzz is about. Here’s your last hint via linkage~~>~> Goodbyetobatteries  Ladies, don’t be shy,  there’s plenty of spray cans to go around and time to catch up. (just call me the instigator)   

So now that I’m basking in my book winner status, and I have my eye on the prize over at Heathers. The only thing left for me to do is find a contest somewhere that is giving a Kindle2 away. Does anyone that comes by my little space here have one? Anyone? I’m trying to decide if my current desire is fleeting, or if it really would be worth the money to pay $360 dollars for the ability to tote multiple books around electronically………..Damn technology, always something to lure and tempt us into the next curve on the horizon…..

Oh, and did I mention, I’m a winner~~

~Thank you to everyone that left birthday wishes for my daughter Shelby. It was much appreciated and a huge bonus to our special day.~