does the ego ever die down? with age, does the 2year-old mentality of being the actual centre of the universe get grown past? and, at the heart of today's tirade, will they ever notice a slight double-standard in the my-life-should-be-whatever-I-feel-called-to-and- find-fulfilling-and-asserting-to-my-god-given-place-as-a-man; and your-life-should-be-exactly-what-it-is? Cause, really, what more would you want in life than to clean my underwear and my house and my kids and the million other tasks that consume the best of your time and energy.
Okay, so I'm stuffing laundry (about 3 loads worth) into a basket. Laundry and me, we aren't really on speaking terms anymore. I ignore it whenever possible and shove it into whatever machine is available when it becomes absolutely necessary. I then proceed to dump it into whatever laundry receptacle (aka,chair) is available. When necessary I go downstairs and retrieve a desperately needed article. This is what laundry has degenerated to for me. I've tried the one day a week and found you can't actually do 12 loads of laundry in one day, unless you're at a laundromat. I've tried one load a day and come to the conclusion we must have somewhat more than 7 loads of laundry in a week. Don't even think of asking me why we have so much - I swear I will kill you. So as I'm stuffing this basket vowing I will not return for anything that doesn't fit in, my husband; who, incidentally, was left home for 2 hours, while I took the kiddies out, to paint the damn room in the basement that has been in renovations for almost an entire year (oh how I wish I could e-scream), returns from Cdn Tire and this and that, talking about something to do with a really good visit yada, yada, yada (truthfully, I'm not paying much attention, or maybe my rage has simply fogged out the memory of it)and he asks me "is something wrong?" Now, keep in mind, I am not mad at him at all at this point. But I am frustrated because the necessary chores of this life never end, and I say "yeah, I'm tired and my head hurts, and I haven't stopped sweating all day, and sometimes I wonder what's the point of decorating the house and planting gardens or any of the finer things of life when all there seems to be is laundry and putting away, and picking up, and feeding, and cleaning - all amidst the almost continual demands for attention from the other house inhabitants. Since when is this life? So what does my husband say as I'm trudging downstairs with my triple load of laundry? He says, and I am quoting, "I don't see what else there should be." It seems like such a small statement, but it fills my heart with rage. You don't see what else there should be.... for whom? For you? Because it doesn't seem to me that your life resembles this picture very much. So, logically, you must mean (or else are foundationally insensitive) that you don't see what else life should be... for me. yeah. this is where the screaming is happening in my head and the keys are crying out from the beating of my acrylic nails ( i got them done, I really like them, too).
I don't know what else to say, or do for that matter. As the anger ebbs I feel hurt down to my core. Why does it seem that we (I'm thinking the women, here, but maybe it's a gender-neutral thing) keep allowing ourselves to trust this person, let ourselves begin to believe that they do know us and appreciate the whole package of who we are (this feeling of being known is so fundamental to a woman - it's the basis of intimacy) only to have it all smacked down with one careless slap of presumption.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Friday, April 06, 2007
Okay, okay, okay! Goodness. What's all the fuss people? Actually I went back and read my previous entries and quite enjoyed them. I can see why you are all whining all the time for me to get blogging. (tee heee, I crack me up) Okay, so does everyone know - i have ADD. That isn't an award for basic math achievement, that is, indeed, Attention Deficit Disorder. K? All on the same page? Good. Really I don't see how anybody could understand a word I write without knowing that. But besides that, it is and has been the thorn in my flesh digging deeper, and deeper, through layer after layer of emotional flesh until I am ready to rip open my chest cavity to be free of it. But don't worry - I'm still fightin' the good fight and all that ... whatever.
I have talked about this A LOT with friends, hubby, shrinky - but it occurred to me that I sometimes feel I can't blog because I can't possibly explain it to everyone else. But I guess I don't have to. You all can research ADD if it so interests you, this is just so you know what the heck I'm talking about if I mention something relating in passing. I am quite good at math, so it isn't so far fetched to think of possibly being misinterpreted in that way... FOCUS! Just got slap myself out of it at times.
Anyway, I am inching my way through the excruciating process of building my own external structure. It is killing me. I am dying here. I am losing my mind, falling off the razor's edge, all out of metaphors, but - heehhh? Ya know? Sometimes all I can think is - aaaaaaaaaaaarghhhh! AAARRRRRHGHGH!!!!!! Aargh. I gotta go. My computer is being really stupid and slow. My husband is calling me from downstairs though he knows I can in no way hear or interpret his words. Why does he keep talking? My littlest is trying to make the expensive four lb. highly breakable music box work. i gotta go.
I have talked about this A LOT with friends, hubby, shrinky - but it occurred to me that I sometimes feel I can't blog because I can't possibly explain it to everyone else. But I guess I don't have to. You all can research ADD if it so interests you, this is just so you know what the heck I'm talking about if I mention something relating in passing. I am quite good at math, so it isn't so far fetched to think of possibly being misinterpreted in that way... FOCUS! Just got slap myself out of it at times.
Anyway, I am inching my way through the excruciating process of building my own external structure. It is killing me. I am dying here. I am losing my mind, falling off the razor's edge, all out of metaphors, but - heehhh? Ya know? Sometimes all I can think is - aaaaaaaaaaaarghhhh! AAARRRRRHGHGH!!!!!! Aargh. I gotta go. My computer is being really stupid and slow. My husband is calling me from downstairs though he knows I can in no way hear or interpret his words. Why does he keep talking? My littlest is trying to make the expensive four lb. highly breakable music box work. i gotta go.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Luke....I am your father
So I'm in the kitchen, scraping the porridge out of the pot, and I can hear this heavy disembodied breathing, like Darth Vader. I can hear it, this is not my imagination. I actually stop scraping and listen - still there. I look over my shoulder with that "I know Darth Vader is not in my kitchen but I can still hear him" kind of look. (I know you know what that feels like - creepy) For about 2 eternal seconds I ponder the incongruity of the situation and it comes to me that the loud oxygen-mask breathing is mine. My head is so stuffed up it feels like I am under water. My ears are buffered by an inch or two of fluid, I haven't taken breath through my nostrils for so many hours that I've adapted to a Darth Vader style of breathing for the sake of survival.
My girls are playing pirates. As I finish styling my hair (wow!) and decide to apply makeup (unbelievable!!) I listen to their pirate-y type talk. Batten the hatches! Hoist the midsail! Ahoy, me hearties! I'm the flower pirate! And I'm the minty pirate! And I realize that yes, there are definite gender differences. These pirates have beaded necklaces and sequined shoes. And right now, on their pirate ship, in between commands of "Steer! Steer - away from the whales!" they are having detailed discussions of the finer nuances of color - pink, not red, green like a forest not like a frog, etc. If only I could find my camera I'd have a great scrapbook page out of this. In fact, I shall go seek it momentarily.
My girls are playing pirates. As I finish styling my hair (wow!) and decide to apply makeup (unbelievable!!) I listen to their pirate-y type talk. Batten the hatches! Hoist the midsail! Ahoy, me hearties! I'm the flower pirate! And I'm the minty pirate! And I realize that yes, there are definite gender differences. These pirates have beaded necklaces and sequined shoes. And right now, on their pirate ship, in between commands of "Steer! Steer - away from the whales!" they are having detailed discussions of the finer nuances of color - pink, not red, green like a forest not like a frog, etc. If only I could find my camera I'd have a great scrapbook page out of this. In fact, I shall go seek it momentarily.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Worship
I'm wondering how corporate worship today relates to it's original counterpoint. Why were we followers of Christ to meet together in the first place? It was to bring our individual gifts together to build each other up, thus building the church, the body of Christ.
Thoughts to pursue: the "order" of worship; style;
It no longer feels, for me, that I go to church to participate in the edification of the body of Christ. I don't go bringing my gifts for congregate encouragement. 90% of the time I don't even expect to be encouraged by the gifts of others. That isn't because others aren't using their gifts - they are and I almost always do leave feeling edified. It is because I don't go to church with that expectation. Usually I go because I'm supposed to go. You know, "Do not give up (forsake) meeting together" in Hebrews somewhere. Going to church has become a rule we have to follow instead of what it was intended to be. Even that passage in Hebrews is talking about us meeting together for mutual encouragement - because Christ has made this great sacrifice for us, because we have this access to the holy of holies, because we have this great high priest we should draw near to God. And we should do it together, because the body is stronger than the individual parts. We can strengthen each other. When did this gathering together become synonymous with Sabbath-rest. We are commanded to rest, we are promised Sabbath rest (Hebrews 3-ish). Does it ever say this rest and the gathering together are the same thing? I'm almost inclined to think the Sabbath rest more instrospective, more conducive to quiet and solitude. Where we rest in God's presence. Is corporate worship, then, to be filled with times of reflection and silence? Is it for the individual to sit at the feet of God and listen? Couldn't we do that at home? Shouldn't we? Or is corporate worship a time to worship together, praise together, share joys and sorrows, share teaching and prophecies, remind each other of God's promises and His commands, work together to build and strengthen this body we are all part of? If it is the latter, then many of our discussions over worship "styles" and congregational "needs" would be affected. Is the church leadership there to provide an opportunity for Sabbath rest to the other members? Or do we all come as fellow believers bringing our gifts to bless each other? Leadership provides administrative support, pastoral support, connection, vision among many other things. Leadership provides this in order to nurture the gathering, to give it organization and direction. We are selling our church leaders short if we believe they are only there to give us our Sunday fix. Individually we need to seek the kingdom of God and His righteousness and we need to enter into Sabbath rest, so that when we meet together we can bring our anointed gifts to the mutual blessing and encouragement of our congregation.
Thoughts to pursue: the "order" of worship; style;
It no longer feels, for me, that I go to church to participate in the edification of the body of Christ. I don't go bringing my gifts for congregate encouragement. 90% of the time I don't even expect to be encouraged by the gifts of others. That isn't because others aren't using their gifts - they are and I almost always do leave feeling edified. It is because I don't go to church with that expectation. Usually I go because I'm supposed to go. You know, "Do not give up (forsake) meeting together" in Hebrews somewhere. Going to church has become a rule we have to follow instead of what it was intended to be. Even that passage in Hebrews is talking about us meeting together for mutual encouragement - because Christ has made this great sacrifice for us, because we have this access to the holy of holies, because we have this great high priest we should draw near to God. And we should do it together, because the body is stronger than the individual parts. We can strengthen each other. When did this gathering together become synonymous with Sabbath-rest. We are commanded to rest, we are promised Sabbath rest (Hebrews 3-ish). Does it ever say this rest and the gathering together are the same thing? I'm almost inclined to think the Sabbath rest more instrospective, more conducive to quiet and solitude. Where we rest in God's presence. Is corporate worship, then, to be filled with times of reflection and silence? Is it for the individual to sit at the feet of God and listen? Couldn't we do that at home? Shouldn't we? Or is corporate worship a time to worship together, praise together, share joys and sorrows, share teaching and prophecies, remind each other of God's promises and His commands, work together to build and strengthen this body we are all part of? If it is the latter, then many of our discussions over worship "styles" and congregational "needs" would be affected. Is the church leadership there to provide an opportunity for Sabbath rest to the other members? Or do we all come as fellow believers bringing our gifts to bless each other? Leadership provides administrative support, pastoral support, connection, vision among many other things. Leadership provides this in order to nurture the gathering, to give it organization and direction. We are selling our church leaders short if we believe they are only there to give us our Sunday fix. Individually we need to seek the kingdom of God and His righteousness and we need to enter into Sabbath rest, so that when we meet together we can bring our anointed gifts to the mutual blessing and encouragement of our congregation.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Life from the Pit
Okay, obviously I'm feeling pretty good today. Good enough to poke fun at the pretty much un-funniest thing in my lifetime of experience. Believe me it has been a lifetime.
So, let's talk about depression. Why? Because I want to. I'm interested in knowing how others live with this giant gorilla on their back. It doesn't seem to matter how much I rest, destress, talk, read, ignore, research - I know that when the curtain falls again it'll all be gone. I may remember some of it, but I won't be able to use any of it. It all seems for nothing. Unless it's for the next good day. Can you build on something 1 day/month? 6 days/year? Am I completely hopeless to be hoping, today, that I'm making headway in my battle with chocolate, in my desire to add exercise into my life regularly, in my commitment to eat consciously. To think, maybe I'm getting it again and I'll be able to keep my head, at least, out of the hole for awhile? Will tomorrow be as black as last week? Will it be as bright as today? Do I need to control this? Do I feel I need to control my mood, which governs (usually) my choices and my productivity. I haven't really been able to say - to hell with productivity. Who cares what I accomplish, I'm just going to live. Quote, "Life is what you make it; always has been, always will be." Grandma Moses. So what is life if I'm not making anything? Not making the bed, not making supper, not making it to appointments, not making commitments, not potty training my almost 3 year old, not helping my kindergartner learn to write lower case letters! Nothing. Nothing. Just nothing. How do you do nothing? How is that okay? I don't know.
So, let's talk about depression. Why? Because I want to. I'm interested in knowing how others live with this giant gorilla on their back. It doesn't seem to matter how much I rest, destress, talk, read, ignore, research - I know that when the curtain falls again it'll all be gone. I may remember some of it, but I won't be able to use any of it. It all seems for nothing. Unless it's for the next good day. Can you build on something 1 day/month? 6 days/year? Am I completely hopeless to be hoping, today, that I'm making headway in my battle with chocolate, in my desire to add exercise into my life regularly, in my commitment to eat consciously. To think, maybe I'm getting it again and I'll be able to keep my head, at least, out of the hole for awhile? Will tomorrow be as black as last week? Will it be as bright as today? Do I need to control this? Do I feel I need to control my mood, which governs (usually) my choices and my productivity. I haven't really been able to say - to hell with productivity. Who cares what I accomplish, I'm just going to live. Quote, "Life is what you make it; always has been, always will be." Grandma Moses. So what is life if I'm not making anything? Not making the bed, not making supper, not making it to appointments, not making commitments, not potty training my almost 3 year old, not helping my kindergartner learn to write lower case letters! Nothing. Nothing. Just nothing. How do you do nothing? How is that okay? I don't know.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
hey stranger, gotta light?
dark, dark, dark... so dark. could I get a light? anyone? hello?
I'm reaching out. I don't know where I am. It's dark. No one else is here. I don't know what to do. I'm waiting... for light, I guess. Someone has to bring the light. I'll wait.
I'm reaching out. I don't know where I am. It's dark. No one else is here. I don't know what to do. I'm waiting... for light, I guess. Someone has to bring the light. I'll wait.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
the search for internet...
finally... computer...can I, does it....?? Here I am at Elkhorn resort and have finally found a window of opportunity with an internet connection! Man I'm weighed down. This week I've been feeling very close to an emotional precipice. I feel this lust for expression - I want to scream, and scream obscenities at that, and throw things and then walk away. I want to stop trying to be reasonable, and considerate, and loving. *$@! it! (I'm only censoring for the sake of those of you reading) I don't want to care anymore! and I feel very close to not caring. that is what is so frightening. I feel very close to some sort of break with myself; as in if I were to fall/jump over this edge I would not be myself anymore. I don't want to not be me, but I really feel it is just too unbearable. I've felt this way before and gotten through intact. But this time it isn't just the pain inside my head and my chest, it's the allure of freedom, of acceptance, of peace.
I also realize I've fallen back into that pit of thinking if I can only pull it together and stop being such a loser I'll be able to reconnect with God. that is such a crappy lie. He doesn't want me to do more - it's me, or someone else, or satan, who wants more than i have right now. God just wants me to be, and to be with Him.
I read an article this morning, an interview with Sheryl Crow, and she said after 44 years of work, work, work, she finally understood that "when there's nothing to do, do nothing". Maybe that's what I'm fighting here. Maybe being home for my children means I don't really have much to do. Maybe I should just enjoy doing nothing. I'm so sure I'm failing at life because I'm not accomplishing anything quantifiable in a day. I feel I'm wasting time all day long. But if I wasn't "wasting " that time, what would I be doing? Assuming I'm still home with the girls, I'd be cleaning, doing laundry, or playing princesses. None of those things are actually necessary to the work of loving my kids and raising them. (I mean the laundry and cleaning is getting done eventually) Maybe the "supermoms" clean all day to keep from losing their sanity. well I need to blog and read and do crosswords to keep mine. Why oh why am I so down on myself? Is it hopeless? Are we taught as children to either give ourselves a flipping break or break ourselves over our unreachable standards? I gotta go have a coffee.
I also realize I've fallen back into that pit of thinking if I can only pull it together and stop being such a loser I'll be able to reconnect with God. that is such a crappy lie. He doesn't want me to do more - it's me, or someone else, or satan, who wants more than i have right now. God just wants me to be, and to be with Him.
I read an article this morning, an interview with Sheryl Crow, and she said after 44 years of work, work, work, she finally understood that "when there's nothing to do, do nothing". Maybe that's what I'm fighting here. Maybe being home for my children means I don't really have much to do. Maybe I should just enjoy doing nothing. I'm so sure I'm failing at life because I'm not accomplishing anything quantifiable in a day. I feel I'm wasting time all day long. But if I wasn't "wasting " that time, what would I be doing? Assuming I'm still home with the girls, I'd be cleaning, doing laundry, or playing princesses. None of those things are actually necessary to the work of loving my kids and raising them. (I mean the laundry and cleaning is getting done eventually) Maybe the "supermoms" clean all day to keep from losing their sanity. well I need to blog and read and do crosswords to keep mine. Why oh why am I so down on myself? Is it hopeless? Are we taught as children to either give ourselves a flipping break or break ourselves over our unreachable standards? I gotta go have a coffee.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
It's funny how i approach this blog as I do everyone else's, with some sort of expectation that something might be different today. I don't know who I think would be logging on to make changes while I'm off-line. Maybe I think my other personalities might start blogging thus giving some insight into my "lost-time" episodes and other unexplainable personality glitches. I think on some level we all wish we had multiple personalities. Integration is tough, man. It's tough.
So I'm feeling fairly accomplished this afternoon. This morning I had 6 children 5 yrs. and under in my care for 3 hours and we all survived. I think there should be some sort of formal recognition for this kind of thing. It's like some sort of "trial-by-fire" or something. Shouldn't I get a pin, or a sticker or something? Nah - I get the satisfaction of helping out a friend, which was what I wanted out of doing it anyway.
So - the topic of the year in this house continues to be - money!! I'm so sick of talking about money. My husband and I tried to articulate what each of our biggest concerns was regarding our money. He said he's come to understand that we have very different styles of managing money. I know what he really thinks is that I am a financial stump and think money just falls out of the sky from above me somewhere, but I applaud his restraint and tact in choosing nicer words. I don't think I was equally diplomatic. I think I said he justs wants to hoard his money so he can dream about spending it. The more you hoard, the bigger you can dream. Eventually he will dream us onto a Caribbean cruise and a houseboat in the Shushwap, a big house in the country and a BMW roadster to play with. I, however, will be cold because I have no winter jacket, bored because we can't get cable or satellite or something, and sitting on the floor for want of living room furniture!! I guess dreams are easier to take when you have a job that pays for your clothes and new vehicle and trips to fancy resorts in exotic locations. I wonder how I'll feel if my husband ever asks to read my blog. That's probably one of those foresight things. Oh well.
I guess, since my job doesn't have those perks, I'm going to have to be really clear about what I want and make it happen. Man - I've been way too easy-going all my life! I gotta get a little more demanding. Don't you think? That's not so bad, is it? Cause if that's not reasonable, you know, I'm okay without those things. I mean, really, I'm fine. It was just a thought.
So I'm feeling fairly accomplished this afternoon. This morning I had 6 children 5 yrs. and under in my care for 3 hours and we all survived. I think there should be some sort of formal recognition for this kind of thing. It's like some sort of "trial-by-fire" or something. Shouldn't I get a pin, or a sticker or something? Nah - I get the satisfaction of helping out a friend, which was what I wanted out of doing it anyway.
So - the topic of the year in this house continues to be - money!! I'm so sick of talking about money. My husband and I tried to articulate what each of our biggest concerns was regarding our money. He said he's come to understand that we have very different styles of managing money. I know what he really thinks is that I am a financial stump and think money just falls out of the sky from above me somewhere, but I applaud his restraint and tact in choosing nicer words. I don't think I was equally diplomatic. I think I said he justs wants to hoard his money so he can dream about spending it. The more you hoard, the bigger you can dream. Eventually he will dream us onto a Caribbean cruise and a houseboat in the Shushwap, a big house in the country and a BMW roadster to play with. I, however, will be cold because I have no winter jacket, bored because we can't get cable or satellite or something, and sitting on the floor for want of living room furniture!! I guess dreams are easier to take when you have a job that pays for your clothes and new vehicle and trips to fancy resorts in exotic locations. I wonder how I'll feel if my husband ever asks to read my blog. That's probably one of those foresight things. Oh well.
I guess, since my job doesn't have those perks, I'm going to have to be really clear about what I want and make it happen. Man - I've been way too easy-going all my life! I gotta get a little more demanding. Don't you think? That's not so bad, is it? Cause if that's not reasonable, you know, I'm okay without those things. I mean, really, I'm fine. It was just a thought.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
language
Somedays language is overrated.
I would leave it behind,
just for awhile,
and just be.
My thoughts would sound like music
unbound from any score.
My soul would sink down,
embedding itself in soft, warm earth.
Language wants to take flight;
I want to dig down.
Down to where it is dark
and silent.
Where the word "silence"
need not be spoken.
Wh
I would leave it behind,
just for awhile,
and just be.
My thoughts would sound like music
unbound from any score.
My soul would sink down,
embedding itself in soft, warm earth.
Language wants to take flight;
I want to dig down.
Down to where it is dark
and silent.
Where the word "silence"
need not be spoken.
Wh
tomorrow
I've no time for tomorrow
why is there tomorrow?
straining toward a tomorrow never gained
tomorrow is hope
tomorrow is hopeless
if I could take back from yesterday and borrow from tomorrow, would today be all I wish it to be?
tomorrow is blue, sheer, and frothy
why do we worry about spelling tomorrow correctly?
why do we discern between today and tomorrow?
who will I be tomorrow?
anticipating a tomorrow that will not come
I'll see you tomorrow.
why is there tomorrow?
straining toward a tomorrow never gained
tomorrow is hope
tomorrow is hopeless
if I could take back from yesterday and borrow from tomorrow, would today be all I wish it to be?
tomorrow is blue, sheer, and frothy
why do we worry about spelling tomorrow correctly?
why do we discern between today and tomorrow?
who will I be tomorrow?
anticipating a tomorrow that will not come
I'll see you tomorrow.
Midlife Crisis or Genesis?
My husband thinks I'm having a mid-life crisis. This morning I told him I was going to be honest about my feelings, needs, wishes, and he asked me, "Is this a mid-life crisis?" Well, maybe it is a crisis - for him. No more 3rd and 4th arm to assist him, no more personal assistant to toss his leftover details on, and no more crutch for emotional and personal insecurities. He's on his own. To clarify, I will provide the best in love and friendship, help and support that I can - but his happiness, his effectiveness, his purpose in this world is all in his hands. It always was, but he thought my job was to help him carry it. Consequently neither of us were very happy with each other. I can see how this would constitute a crisis for him.
I, on the other hand, feel reborn. If it helps my husband accept it, he can label it as a mid-life crisis (I always was a little ahead of myself in personal growth stages). If I had to label it, I'd call it a re-genesis. But I don't have to.
I, on the other hand, feel reborn. If it helps my husband accept it, he can label it as a mid-life crisis (I always was a little ahead of myself in personal growth stages). If I had to label it, I'd call it a re-genesis. But I don't have to.
Friday, November 10, 2006
It's what I do.
New decision. I'm a writer. Apparently, it's what I do. My husband just freaked out on me as I could imagine him freaking out upon discovering I had lost one of our children. I was writing and I lost 45 minutes - I'm sure most of you can relate - and I burned the rice dry. I could have burned the house down (he thinks). My response? I was writing, I didn't notice, we're all fine, don't have a cow.
I think that will be my response from now on. I was writing, or researching, or thinking - because I'm a writer. It's what I do.
I think that will be my response from now on. I was writing, or researching, or thinking - because I'm a writer. It's what I do.
So, how was your year? Mine was interesting.
Okay, now that we're all caught up - let us ponder the intrinsic meaning of numbers. It seems that every person has an associated value with particular number. For example, 58 can seem to be a much higher number than 60. And 38 can be 40. Now that I'm 38 years old (2 weeks tomorrow) I feel that some invisible boundary has been crossed. I feel I have earned the right to say - enough. Enough pretending i can be all things to all people; enough pretending I can do it all; enough believing I can meet every need another person brings before me and still maintain a state of physical/mental/spiritual and emotional health for myself. I'm done.
Now, when I was 37 I was riddled with doubt, confusion, and feelings of inadequacy. I'm so much more mature now. But somehow 37 freaked me out. For the first time in my life I was uncomfortable, even afraid of, my age. I was almost 40. How could I be almost 40 and still feel so inadequate? Immature? Still trying to please everyone? Still looking for someone else to tell me I was enough - smart enough, talented enough, brave enough. As my birthday loomed closer I started thinking about what bothered me about turning 38. It was being almost 40 - and feeling the obvious discrepancy between how long I've been living this life and how little I've accomplished. But I knew it was coming and I'd better find a way to reconcile with it. My new favorite magazine is entitled More, and it is all about and aimed at women over 40. It seems I'm not alone. Many women feel that they didn't really enter into their lives with confidence and peace until well into their 40's or even 50's. As Megan Mullaly said, "I had the same talent in my 20's, I just didn't believe in it.". So I decided - my 40's are here, what am I going to do with them? And I am experiencing a great sense of freedom and empowerment with this acceptance.
So, I'm done. How do you decide what you should do? Look at what needs to be done, at who could get it done, and do what you want to do. Now that, my friends, is radical.
Okay, now that we're all caught up - let us ponder the intrinsic meaning of numbers. It seems that every person has an associated value with particular number. For example, 58 can seem to be a much higher number than 60. And 38 can be 40. Now that I'm 38 years old (2 weeks tomorrow) I feel that some invisible boundary has been crossed. I feel I have earned the right to say - enough. Enough pretending i can be all things to all people; enough pretending I can do it all; enough believing I can meet every need another person brings before me and still maintain a state of physical/mental/spiritual and emotional health for myself. I'm done.
Now, when I was 37 I was riddled with doubt, confusion, and feelings of inadequacy. I'm so much more mature now. But somehow 37 freaked me out. For the first time in my life I was uncomfortable, even afraid of, my age. I was almost 40. How could I be almost 40 and still feel so inadequate? Immature? Still trying to please everyone? Still looking for someone else to tell me I was enough - smart enough, talented enough, brave enough. As my birthday loomed closer I started thinking about what bothered me about turning 38. It was being almost 40 - and feeling the obvious discrepancy between how long I've been living this life and how little I've accomplished. But I knew it was coming and I'd better find a way to reconcile with it. My new favorite magazine is entitled More, and it is all about and aimed at women over 40. It seems I'm not alone. Many women feel that they didn't really enter into their lives with confidence and peace until well into their 40's or even 50's. As Megan Mullaly said, "I had the same talent in my 20's, I just didn't believe in it.". So I decided - my 40's are here, what am I going to do with them? And I am experiencing a great sense of freedom and empowerment with this acceptance.
So, I'm done. How do you decide what you should do? Look at what needs to be done, at who could get it done, and do what you want to do. Now that, my friends, is radical.
Friday, November 25, 2005
Ode to Shirley
Yes, Shirley - you were meant to stay at home, and you are making the world a better place by doing so. Your Superstore rages and jelly shoes doeth good as good medicine-eth. (The fish thing is a little creepy, but to each his own...) I, however, was meant to be away from home. Or, when at home, to be free to enjoy myself. Work and home do not mix well for me. Why then is there nothing to do, for me, at home but work!? Seriously, that's all I do. Work, sleep, shower. Sigh. I guess I'm starting to wonder - why am I even trying - okay trying is a strong term, how about - thinking about all this housework? I don't have time for this. And shouldn't I really be taking time to relax and enjoy my family and my home before taking time to scrub a toilet? Where are my priorities. Again, before you get too concerned for my well-being, I am only thinking about these chores thus far. I haven't been actually doing any housework. But it has been quite a stress on my mind.
In case I don't talk to you tomorrow, my dear friend, happy birthday! Of all the things God created - I like you best.
This week I've had a recital at University, 2 evening events, worship team practice, 2 birthday parties, meetings about mortgages and property and house building, a 600 page novel to read, a #@%*load of practicing to do and a 2500 word essay to start. And, you know, theory - well I can't even talk it about it. It's too fresh.
So this afternoon, I'm sitting here as if I have absolutely nothing going on. Forget the fact that I have 9 loads of laundry waiting to be done (I still have 2 pairs of underwear - no sweat), haven't washed anything in 2 months, my toddler is constipated because all she gets to eat is cheese and milk, and I have 1 1/2 weeks left until I write exams and receive, for the past 1/4 year of my life, a set of grades that will never change. No, today... today I sit. I sit and eat cake (birthday yesterday) and remember a friendship that has blessed my life more with each passing year since it began. Sniff.... its just too much.
Ahem, anyway - it's not all so dire. Mom's here. She does laundry before the girls have to go out in pj's and Steve's left going commando; she cooks when the kids cry loud enough; Emelia's 4 now so she can take over some of the cooking responsibilities. Really, we're doin' fine.
I really, really, really hope that by next fall we will be in a new house. I don't mean, crossing my fingers hope, but real expectant belief hope. I think we are going to build a house. A bungalow with everything we want in it. If we don't build, we will buy. But if God approves of our plans, we will be in a new house soon.
Well, it's been nice pretending I had free time. Now I have an hour before going back to school so I'd better get back to work (school work).
Bless you Shirley - we'll have some cake for you, too, at Em's birthday party tomorrow. It would have been nice to post this on your actual day, but - close enough? Love you - you're the greatest!
In case I don't talk to you tomorrow, my dear friend, happy birthday! Of all the things God created - I like you best.
This week I've had a recital at University, 2 evening events, worship team practice, 2 birthday parties, meetings about mortgages and property and house building, a 600 page novel to read, a #@%*load of practicing to do and a 2500 word essay to start. And, you know, theory - well I can't even talk it about it. It's too fresh.
So this afternoon, I'm sitting here as if I have absolutely nothing going on. Forget the fact that I have 9 loads of laundry waiting to be done (I still have 2 pairs of underwear - no sweat), haven't washed anything in 2 months, my toddler is constipated because all she gets to eat is cheese and milk, and I have 1 1/2 weeks left until I write exams and receive, for the past 1/4 year of my life, a set of grades that will never change. No, today... today I sit. I sit and eat cake (birthday yesterday) and remember a friendship that has blessed my life more with each passing year since it began. Sniff.... its just too much.
Ahem, anyway - it's not all so dire. Mom's here. She does laundry before the girls have to go out in pj's and Steve's left going commando; she cooks when the kids cry loud enough; Emelia's 4 now so she can take over some of the cooking responsibilities. Really, we're doin' fine.
I really, really, really hope that by next fall we will be in a new house. I don't mean, crossing my fingers hope, but real expectant belief hope. I think we are going to build a house. A bungalow with everything we want in it. If we don't build, we will buy. But if God approves of our plans, we will be in a new house soon.
Well, it's been nice pretending I had free time. Now I have an hour before going back to school so I'd better get back to work (school work).
Bless you Shirley - we'll have some cake for you, too, at Em's birthday party tomorrow. It would have been nice to post this on your actual day, but - close enough? Love you - you're the greatest!
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Where has all the fast food gone?
So, when did McDonald's officially cease to be fast food? i have been there twice to 2 different locations in the past 2 weeks, after approximately 8 months absence, and it was slower than my sit-down meal at Grapes the other night (which, fyi, was fabulous - chicken fingers to die for). i'm standing for 20 minutes to get fries and carbonated water - diet, of course! whassup wid dat?
Okay so the weirdest thing about being back at university after a 16 year absence is the fact that it doesn't feel weird at all. I feel like I've been doing this for the past year and a half, at least, and it's just normal routine for me. Shouldn't it feel just a little strange? Yes, you're right, it should. And I acknowledge that, which leads me to my conclusion that I belong in school. I think I shall just remain there. I quite like it, I'm fairly useful, doing well - I may as well make a career out of being a student. Now I remember why I decided, during my last University stint, that it would be necessary for me to be a prof at university. Really, that's what people do when there are no degrees left to take, but they don't want to go anywhere else - they stay and teach. I can't think of anything more natural or comfortable for me.
okay, so what else? Here's my latest conundrum - how does one up and write a 5 page piece of fiction? I think the short story concept somehow eludes me. i don't get it. it's either a story, in which case it'll likely take about 400 or so pages at the minimum, or it's a couple of paragraphs of thoughts or ideas. how will i fit an entire story into 5 pages? it'd be easier to write an operetta. which is a thought to ponder.
sigh. I miss you, Shirley, my friend.
Okay so the weirdest thing about being back at university after a 16 year absence is the fact that it doesn't feel weird at all. I feel like I've been doing this for the past year and a half, at least, and it's just normal routine for me. Shouldn't it feel just a little strange? Yes, you're right, it should. And I acknowledge that, which leads me to my conclusion that I belong in school. I think I shall just remain there. I quite like it, I'm fairly useful, doing well - I may as well make a career out of being a student. Now I remember why I decided, during my last University stint, that it would be necessary for me to be a prof at university. Really, that's what people do when there are no degrees left to take, but they don't want to go anywhere else - they stay and teach. I can't think of anything more natural or comfortable for me.
okay, so what else? Here's my latest conundrum - how does one up and write a 5 page piece of fiction? I think the short story concept somehow eludes me. i don't get it. it's either a story, in which case it'll likely take about 400 or so pages at the minimum, or it's a couple of paragraphs of thoughts or ideas. how will i fit an entire story into 5 pages? it'd be easier to write an operetta. which is a thought to ponder.
sigh. I miss you, Shirley, my friend.
Monday, October 17, 2005
research log
October 17 - re-read "insanity & selfhood". read chapter on research writing. need a research question. How was insanity understood and dealt with in the 19th Cent? What is moral insanity in the context of 19th cent. psychology and particularly in Charlotte Bronte's writing? What was meant by the term "moral insanity" in the 19th cent. and how did it affect ideas of selfhood and society as portrayed in Bronte's Jane Eyre? obviously my question calls for informative writing.
scooping stardust into sapphire studded satchels
see, now, that there? that's a-called alliteration. yep. just one 'o those high-falutin' things i'm learnin' over at the fancy u-ni-ver-si-ty, there. ah, my friend Shirley, as with all my thoughts it is but an exercise in creating discourse with you despite the great distance between us. seriously, should be writing my english essay due tomorrow. but i needed some info and needed a research log and i thought - now, henry (I sometimes call myself that), why dontcha jes' put that there log on that little talkie thing ya got on the com-pu-ter. thataways, ya gots somethin' ta say and people won't complain bout 'ya not sayin' nothin', and it ain't taking any more time than ya woulda spent anyhows.
maybe i'll go write that little thing and then come back and fill everyone in (that'd be you, Shirley-girl) on the mom thing and the school thing and the housing situation.
here i go to change the world of 19th century literature .... plus the baby's crying. sapphires and milk. that's my evening.
maybe i'll go write that little thing and then come back and fill everyone in (that'd be you, Shirley-girl) on the mom thing and the school thing and the housing situation.
here i go to change the world of 19th century literature .... plus the baby's crying. sapphires and milk. that's my evening.
moral insanity research log
october 14 - went to library. i found it unsuspectingly dull. is that odd? i mean, not that it was dull, but that i didn't expect it to be? anyway - didn't get much done. couldn't even tell what color the walls were. just dull. so, read the chapter on physiognomy and phrenology. i got a handle on it but not so thrilling. later read chapter on "insanity & selfhood". that was much more interesting. especially when relating it to Charlotte Bronte's writing and Jane Eyre in particular. the overlapping of insanity and social expectation and physiological knowledge creates a very unique take on insanity. you can't help but look at the "insane" characters in 19th Cent. fiction a lot deeper. were they actually insane? who defined it? how much of the diagnoses was based on cultural differences? Bertha Mason is from Jamaica. The very proper British had a very biased understanding and almost complete intolerance for the native culture when they colonized the West Indies. if "moral insanity" is in large part based on the person's ability to navigate social expectations - either in behavior or in their ability to keep their behavior hidden from view of society... well, let's not get too far into that subject for now. Make copy of chapter for home use. Read writer's handbook chapter on research writing.
Monday, October 03, 2005
these are the colours of my life
Lately i've taken to sitting and imagining my walls in different colours. There is probably something very deep and profound about this, or it may just be i have a low tolerance for sameness and can't really justify yet another layer of color on these walls quite yet. How soon is too soon to repaint your walls? And is it really walls that need changing? Hmmmm? Look deeper, vhat do ju see?
Well, here I am typing on my new laptop. Finally - I have a laptop! No more rhinocerous tied to my ankle! I'm free at last, free at last! Well, it ain't all that but throw in a bag of chips and I won't turn my nose up at it. I'm still trying to get the feel for this keyboard. I shall soon have to begin writing assignments and I'm trying to work out this unfortunate tendency toward profanity beforehand. (That's the keyboard's tendency - we will leave my tendency for another evening.)
So here's the scoop. Back to school. Pros: not as dumb as I thought I was. Cons: not as young as I thought I was. Seriously, it's one thing to know you're not 19 anymore, but almost entirely surrounded by 19 year-olds brings knowing to a whole different level. It's visceral. Don't ask me to define that; just trying it out for the essay assignment. So, English Lit. Love it. Seemed like a great excuse to read a bunch of books I've already read and loved. 6 novels in 12 weeks. That wouldn't be so bad if they were normal novels. The Brothers Karamazov is 900 pages (the version I have) of extremely small print. And did I mention the aging dilemna? My eyes hurt! Sigh.... well. Who am I kidding? I am happy as pigs in 7s7u9ot (there is goes again)! 4 years of staying home; of being mostly alone with babies... now I am out among people, learning, reading, discussing - I feel like I'm living again! It is awesome. I love it. So I think the dining room walls are red today. And man does my new table & chair set look great against them!
Well, here I am typing on my new laptop. Finally - I have a laptop! No more rhinocerous tied to my ankle! I'm free at last, free at last! Well, it ain't all that but throw in a bag of chips and I won't turn my nose up at it. I'm still trying to get the feel for this keyboard. I shall soon have to begin writing assignments and I'm trying to work out this unfortunate tendency toward profanity beforehand. (That's the keyboard's tendency - we will leave my tendency for another evening.)
So here's the scoop. Back to school. Pros: not as dumb as I thought I was. Cons: not as young as I thought I was. Seriously, it's one thing to know you're not 19 anymore, but almost entirely surrounded by 19 year-olds brings knowing to a whole different level. It's visceral. Don't ask me to define that; just trying it out for the essay assignment. So, English Lit. Love it. Seemed like a great excuse to read a bunch of books I've already read and loved. 6 novels in 12 weeks. That wouldn't be so bad if they were normal novels. The Brothers Karamazov is 900 pages (the version I have) of extremely small print. And did I mention the aging dilemna? My eyes hurt! Sigh.... well. Who am I kidding? I am happy as pigs in 7s7u9ot (there is goes again)! 4 years of staying home; of being mostly alone with babies... now I am out among people, learning, reading, discussing - I feel like I'm living again! It is awesome. I love it. So I think the dining room walls are red today. And man does my new table & chair set look great against them!
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