The Carnival!
04/27/2008 07:02 a.m.

Ahhh, for one more year, I got to be a kid again tonight. Poor Miah. His tummy gave out after only 4 rides, so I had to go alone the last few. The octopus is my FAVORITE ride. I rode it twice tonight! And the gravitron....YAY!!! Then there was this huge-armed thing called the "ali baba" - holds about 25 people in two rows, and then begins to swing back and forth until, after about a five story rise - whoosh - it makes it all the way around the circle. FUN!!!! My muscles are sore from holding on, my neck aches, and everything feels all woosally. But I loved it. hehe. I can't believe I outlasted Miah!!! Only thing is, this year I skipped the cotton candy. Which is a good thing, but man....cotton candy is my fav!!!! Not just because of what it is, but because it symbolizes a certain abandon that is totally awesome to recapture. Tilt my head back, let my hair fly in the wind, close my eyes, and feel the weightlessness of flying. And oh, the dreams I have for days afterwards. Delicious.

This will be a night to remember for years to come. Mmmmmmm.


I am currently Perfect
I am listening to my equilibrium trying to return

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Self Indulgence vs. authenticity
04/22/2008 03:50 p.m.

My last journal entry - it feels like SO much self indulgence! But one of the committments I've made to myself in the last year is to allow myself to feel, to be, and simply try to observe it in the most objective/non-judgmental way that I can manage; to be authentically myself, even if doing so displeases myself or others.

Truth, redemption, self-forgiveness, tolerance, eagerness...I suppose it's the stuff all lives are made of. Besides, I never professed to actually BE good at life. I just meant to set it as a goal, and I suppose, in my lame little ways, I'm still trying. Though, honestly, it so discourages me that I'm at least half way through it, and further away from "being good at it" than I ever was.

What if it is, all, just so much illusion? Would it change the way I feel about living, cause me to be less attached to the outcome of these relationships, these activities that comprise a life? I'm so pitifully attached!

I'm SO attached to who I love, who loves me back, how I spend my days, what events fill my awareness (including those events I hear on the news or witness outside of my own life). Ack. Gives me a hairball!


I am currently Odd
I am listening to Meme stirring....gotta go make her breakfast.

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Eagerness and how to live without it
04/21/2008 09:59 p.m.

I attended Sunday services in Portland yesterday, and then came home and read. What strikes me is that what is lacking in my life is eagerness. Really, not just to serve God, but to do anything in particular. And I believe that it is in this eagerness, that we find our will to put one foot in front of the other spiritually speaking. This desire must be so strong that I become willing to meditate daily, dedicating each and every day to the Lord from the very start of it. Alas, somehow these days, eagerness is in very short supply, perhaps even non-existent for me.

I feel so old. I know I am perhaps, God willing, only just over half the way to the end of my breathing in this body, so, certainly, I'm not as old as I will eventually feel. Still, I can remember being 18, on fire for the Lord and full of energy and natural eagerness to find His will for my life and live it. I was so certain that I would not fall prey to the temptations and pitfalls of this world. I seemed to have infinite hope, for myself and for the world around me.

It wasn't that I had lived a life void of suffering. My mother's second husband, my legal father, sexually assaulted me repeatedly during my childhood, though I am thankful it was not to the degree that some children are. My mother was so unhappy that she consistently cast that unhappiness in the direction of her children, often verbally expressing to us that she wished we were all dead when, infact, I believe now she wished it for herself more than anyone. And she beat us, me mostly, I think because I was the oldest and was able to vocalize my protests much more than my younger siblings. The end result was that, when I was 12, after their divorce, I felt abandoned by both of them and alone in the world.

It wasn't as though I lived a life without blessing, though, either. My grandparents loved and supported me whenever they were allowed the opportunity, and I actually spent quite alot of time living with them throughout my childhood. They were my champions, along with my aunts and uncle that have persisted, to this day, to support me when my deficits outweighed my ability to cope (both emotionally and, many times, financially). I was also able to find other adults in my life....teachers, friends' mothers, neighbors....who tolerated my neediness and gave me affection and guidance.

In my youthful, energetic resolve to be a Godly woman, I managed a few things that other kids my age didn't seem to care too much about. I avoided the pitfalls of becoming infatuated/addicted to drugs and alcohol. It wasn't that I didn't try it. But thankfully, it never appealed to me enough to forgo my studies or other extra-curricular activities. Also, I was able to remain a virgin until I married. Unfortunately, that marriage was so inauspicious that I was lucky to come out of it at all. At that time, I had no idea what casting your "pearls before swine" meant. Well, it means selling oneself short, throwing one's most brilliant efforts onto a garbage heap, not even realizing what is happening. At any rate, in my late teen years, early womanhood, I felt very proud of myself for faring so well given my entirely dysfunctional and damaged history. It wasn't long into my adulthood when I was knocked off that high horse, as seems to often happen when one is overconfident. I began to make critical errors in judgment, and spent much of my time during my 20's and up to my late 30's trying to clean up the messes of those mistakes.

I quit college just after my first semester. I got married to a very young man (though he was my age) I barely knew. We had a terrible four years, spending most of that time apart, before I finally divorced him due to drug/alcohol abuse and a violent temper, and a series of other tragedies, including losing our first born son to SIDS. I left when our second son was just over 2 months old, knowing life with his father would put him in danger.

I had every intention of "cleaning things up" at that point and providing Joey with as normal a life as I could. I was 22 then. And to make two very long decades (plus three years) full of mistakes short, two more divorces and five more children later, here I am.

The children are grown or nearly grown. My oldest son is 23, out on his own, married and expecting my first grandchild. Next is my oldest daughter, who is 19 and in the Navy. After that is my 18 year old daughter who lives with me, ready to graduate this year, and then my 16 year old triplets, two girls and a boy. The boy and one of the girls lives with me, and the other girl lives with her father. Two of the children and I have very strained relationships, full of hurt feelings and offenses. I used to have hope that truth would win out in the end, and there might be forgiveness for my shortcomings during their childhoods. But I've learned the very difficult lesson that truth is in the eye of the beholder, and one version (while completely authentic according to the memories of the one recalling it) may be so different from the other that the discrepancies can't be reconciled. Well, at least, reconcilliation doesn't seem possible now, and I have lost hope that "things can be fixed."

All this given as the thought process connected to my lack of eagerness to find God in this world that I've come to mostly loathe. Sure, there are moments of personal happiness and there are sunny days. But when I dig deep, no longer do I find the fire I once took for granted. I find, instead, a smoldering mess and so far I am unable to find any embers.

So, what to do about this? *sigh* I know less now than ever about how to begin to rekindle my passion for being a Godly woman in this life, in this world. I know all about the preaching of forgiveness and redemption. But even if I could grasp a sense of God's forgiveness, I don't believe forgiveness of myself is a thing that can be found. I've looked. I've prayed. I've meditated. I've performed personal ceremonies, and still a sense of relief eludes me. Yes, it's not as though the mistakes I've made eat at me anymore either. There would be little use in that. But, when I look backwards to try to take a personal inventory of the life I've lived so far, I am filled with a disappointment in myself that persists despite mercy, despite grace, despite time.

Eagerness. I won't stop until I find it, or create it, or become blessed by it.


I am currently Melancholy
I am listening to the TV in Meme's apartment

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Up too late
04/12/2008 09:31 a.m.

I'm up too late. 2:11 am. I'm a night owl at heart, sleeping disorder and all!

I don't know what's come over me lately. A sort of disconnected lazy that is only counter-balanced by my insatiable desire to have a clean house. But with three teenagers, an undisciplined partner, and an 88 year old grandmother, sometimes I just can't keep up with it all. My choices are these: to obsessively clean, clean, clean up after everyone; insist/nag/whine until folks pick up after themselves; or simply let it go, only to have it all pile up in an even more overwhelming mess than if I'd just kept on doing it. And God forbid I should take a break from it. Anyway, excuses.

And I really don't mean to ramble on about the mundane things that make up most of my life these days. In many ways, I'm absolutely grateful for the opportunity to be able to be home and care for my grandmother, and subsequently, my family. I actually SEE them and spend time with them. Working outside the home doesn't allow for enough of that, so I AM grateful.

And I'm also entirely grateful for Miah still being here. He is kind and wonderful and generous with his love and energy and earnings...I'm certain this whole arrangement would be so much less tolerable if he weren't here. Oh sure, I write poetry about the difficult times so that it can make it seem like that's all there is, but I don't mean to represent our relationship that way.

Still, here I am up at 2:21 am, feeling vaguely distant, unsure of things, lost in the avalanche of dishes and laundry and never being able to sleep in and the demands of being on-call 24/7 even though the day-to-day caretaking is not really all that taxing in and of itself.

On a more interesting note, I was curious today about my grandmother's maiden name, Planche, and I was able to find where it had been traced all the way back to the 1100's. Can you balieve it???? I'm very curious about it now, and want to do some more research. Apparently we had some nobles back there in France. Very interesting stuff!!!

Ok, falling asleep finally (funny, how I start to write about myself and it's SOOOO boring I fall asleep doing it!!!!)
I am currently Apathetic
I am listening to Meme breathing over the monitor

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Oh, the MICE!!!!
03/30/2008 08:28 a.m.

Well, let's see, how many mice is it now we've escorted off the property using live traps??? Um, I'd say about 6. They were all amicably deported, across the river and onto state park land. I am employing every humane effort I can think of (peppermint oil, two types of sound devices, live traps). I even left the door open today for almost an hour trying to give them an obvious way to get out. The big ones seem to be gone, but the babies they had don't know their way around at all.....*sigh* nasty stuff, but being cruel to them just kills me.

Then there was the 1 dead one, caught somehow, between the stove and cupboard. Don't ask me how that happened, maybe it was just trying to escape as I fired up the oven. *involuntary shivers*

And Nina, our latest rescue dog from the "Home at Last Society", turns out to be quite the patient mouser. She waited stone-still for half an hour last night by the back of the couch - and then, WHAM, she got her first one and quite proudly deposited its lifeless little body next to where I was doing the dishes. Then, 2 more today, for a total of 3 (that I know of) thanks to her.

That's a grand total of 10 that have left the premises dead or alive.

And 2 more that I know of still running around looking for food. EWWWW!

But tonight, the clincher was Nina's most recent kill. She dropped it out of her mouth, but it wasn't quite dead - twitching, the poor little bugger. I cried and cried.

If I had a better sense of humor and wasn't attached so much to another creature's suffering, I would have gladly enjoyed a giggle over the similarity to Monty Python's "Bring Out Your Dead" skit, in which a NEARLY dead person is deposited onto the "dead" cart and proceeds to softly protest, "'scuse me, but I'm not quite dead yet..." and then, "no, really, I'm feeling much better now." Alas.

I am encouraged by the fact that I'm seeing almost NO droppings, now, in the usual places, and none in unfamiliar places. So.....I know they are going. I sure don't want to kill 'em. Miah suggested an acquarium to keep them in until we get a couple and then take them over the river and let them loose together. I argued that I didn't think mice hung out as neighbors much and that I didn't think it'd matter much to them if they had "friends" to escape with, but if he wanted to set it up, I'd be agreeable to it.

Enough for one day.

I am currently Bummed
I am listening to my brain shut down

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No argument until later
03/23/2008 05:55 a.m.

Tonight he comes home from work, and tells me that he doesn't want to leave me, that he loves me for thinking of his future and his happiness, but that he is happy here with me and why would he want to go anywhere different? He said he would, in a different world perhaps, love to have children, but that he is just as happy to not have to fret about bringing children into this age of kaliyuga (the age of quarrell and chaos and hypocrasy). And his argument included how difficult it would be to find a girl like me. I opened my mouth to protest, but he gently put his finger over it to quiet me.

*shaking my head*

This world perplexes me. Jeremiah is a mystery.

(but at least I can take a breath without crying)



I am currently Calm
I am listening to miah play the guitar

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Writing on the wall
03/22/2008 08:18 p.m.

Sometimes, it's easier to convince ourselves that the writing on the wall applies to someone else's life.


I am currently Sad
I am listening to tears that won't fall

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Text messages from the ex
03/21/2008 09:29 p.m.

He started out by texting me, "I met someone" "I think she might be the one"

I wished him my best, though the unspoken hint of bitter in my messages did not miss his scrutiny. Of course, I am ashamed to admit to the bitterness. If my feelings for him had been utterly dead, I would have felt free to wish him every happiness and mean it.

What transpired after, for the entire morning yesterday, was a text-message deluge of his old mantra, insecurities, and vague accusations that I had been unfaithful to him previous to a date he mentions that I do not specifically recall. First of all, I had never been unfaithful to him in the first place, so unfaithfullness before or after any date is erroneous. Secondly, the truth is that while I did date during the last two separations while we were still married on paper, and a couple of those dates did get somewhat physical, I didn't "sleep with" anyone. The dating itself was, perhaps, not the wisest choice in retrospect, but I can live in my own skin given the circumstances. But all of this I had told to him many times.

There are several things that get me:

#1 - How is it that the lingering communication from that marriage is still enough of a presence that he should feel the desire to text me at all? I mean, I was all for civil communication so that we could, in the future, attend mutual family functions without too much drama (divorce does not always mean that the relationships with other family members cease. I still have a very good relationship with my step-daughter and it's a mutual understanding that we want to continue on in one another's lives). But somehow the communication retained a certain intimacy that, now, seems entirely dysfunctional.

#2 - How does one deem text messaging as an appropriate venue to deal with such emotional issues??? Ridiculous!!! Wait, I might know the answer to this one, too. It's a method not requiring regular conversational tact or respect, and it can be carried out without having to actually look the target in the eye. Much easier to sling verbal dung that way.

#3 - Why in the world did I even endeavor to participate in this exchange in the first place? Well, wait, I know the answer to this one. His method of engagement is always insidiously charming, and always has been, and he HAD managed to behave himself for a couple of years prior so I trusted his intentions. It, of course, disturbs me that I allowed myself to be drawn in nonetheless.

#4 - It bothered me enough that I allowed it to ruin an entire day's worth of sunshine and energy, AND I wrote two poems about it, AND I'm writing about it now. But the productive part is that what came of my feelings and what I wrote about is a sense of closure that had previously eluded me.

I can only deduce that he needed closure for himself, and I've observed that sometimes the easiest way to accomplish that is to focus on a conflict, real or imagined, that allows the closure to take place in an atmosphere of anger and blame. Very effective method of ending an association for good, though I've always marveled that it is preferred over ending an association with kindness. Perhaps kindness leaves a certain crack in the door...

At any rate, overall I feel relieved. If, by chance, we run into one another at his daughter's significant life events, perhaps enough time will have elapsed that the stink of what he tried to sling in my direction will have evaporated. I'm just bothered that it bothered me at all. But then, I have always (again with the shame) been emotionally invested in the opinions of others regarding my behavior, ESPECIALLY the opinions of those I love or have loved. I know it's a sign of weakness, and I hope to one day outgrow it. But it's, unfortunately, still the present truth of it.

*sigh*


I am currently Bothered
I am listening to miah cleaning the kitchen without me - better go help!

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He would have been 25
03/19/2008 09:22 a.m.

P.J. would have been 25 last Saturday.

It boggles my mind to think that 25 years ago, I was holding my first child, my first son, not understanding that his life would be so short.

It feels like yesterday. It feels like a million years ago. It feels like it didn't happen to me, but for the ache where P.J. might have been if he'd only remembered to keep breathing.

Some things never go away. June 4th will come too quickly.

And I wonder at my awareness of it, how it waxes and wanes through the years, and how sharply it stabs some years over others.

And I wonder who he might have been, if he would have been noble, or funny, or artistic; tall or average, ambitious or laid back. How different would life be if he'd remained among us?

And I wonder where his soul is now? Where does he reside? If there is reincarnation, did he take another birth quickly or he is waiting for another time? I've never sensed him, in all these years, his quiet spirit lurking about or watching, and I've always wanted to hear from him somehow. I've always wanted to know him, watch his life and purpose unfold...so many unfulfilled hopes and dreams and nothing at all to do about it.

And I wonder what karma transpired that I should welcome him so joyfully, only to suffer quickly by his early leave.

Even after grief has run its course, this vacancy remains; as if (like any other death) I wait for him to return and take his place, the imprint of his presence as tangible yet as any other soul in my circle.

*taking a deep breath, and letting it slowly go*



I am currently Blue
I am listening to the 2 am silence

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Making bread
03/16/2008 09:25 p.m.

Making bread is so healing. Proofing the yeast with just the right amount of sugar and warmth, turning the dough out onto a floured surface at just the right point...not too wet, but not too dry, so that a delicately spongy dough is created. Kneading the dough with all the strength in my arms and upper body as if I'm working a magic with bare brute. Waiting patiently for the dough to rise, punching it down into submission just once more, and then gently shaping it into loaves that will be warm and fluffy on the inside and just the right amount of crust on the outside. A nurturing that can be accomplished no other way; butter melting and the aroma reaching into the neighborhood to tell the world that one home still does things the old fashioned way every now and again, just to keep things in balance.


I am currently Nostalgic
I am listening to peace in my home today

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