1) I was at KidsPlay rehearsal and trying to get the kids quiet. They wouldn't settle down to rehearse. DC was sitting beside me (where he usually is) and he didn't seem to notice that we weren't rehearsing, that it was just chaos. Finally, I just closed my eyes and went to sleep. We didn't rehearse and no one even seemed to care.
2) I was backstage at the Ricks. It might have been "Rumors" , since Beth was there, but I think it was a different show. There were some kids, some girls, backstage making noise and being silly. First, I was at the bottom of the stairs, and then during the performance, I walked up the stairs and ducked behind the curtain. When I got back stage, I saw a shoe that was supposed to be on stage as a prop and I threw it out there onto an existing pile of shoes--during the performance. I heard Beth say, "Oh my gosh!" I turned my attention to the girls. They were being loud and I tried to get them to leave. I called back on the headset to talk to Dennis and Joe in the booth. They were talking to each other, but they didn't respond to me. I wanted to know whose kids these were. Nobody answered me. Suddenly the girls ran across the back of the stage in full view of the audience laughing and giggling. I decided I didn't care whose kids they were, they were getting out of there, so hustled them out a side stage door (which isn't really there). They stood there laughing and giggling and not seeing the seriousness of it at all.
Two dreams about stress, frustration and powerlessness, wouldn't you say?
Monday, March 30, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Why Am I the Loser?
Why am I the loser here? I did everything you told me to do. I let you switch parts, I cast the girls, I bought the glasses, I told the truth. So why is it that I feel like I'm the big loser? You say you'll never do another show with me and that he won't either. Why is that when I did everything you asked? I lost. I lost the group, I lost my best actors, I lost my best friends, I lost my own inner voice, I lost my sense of place in the community, and for awhile there, I lost the desire to get up out of bed. Everyone went on their merry way, doing stuff together, games, dinner, stuff I'm not invited to. I miss our friendship terribly. You say it's still there, but it's not the same. It's lost.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Education as a Socializing Agency
This is a response to my friend Liz. She was looking for a pre-school for Teagan and she got me to thinking about my children's educational experiences and the way they are now.
"I have very little knowledge of Montessori Schools except for a vague belief that they are very 'free form'. My son Charlie was in a multi-age classroom for grades 1, 2, and 4, which was (in my eyes) an amazingly creative place, with terrifically motivated kids who seemed to be interested in everything and do a million different things at once in the classroom. However, when Charlie went to 5th grade, he had a VERY difficult time adjusting to the structure the regular classroom. I don't regret him being in those classes--those teachers are still the best he had. I see them once in awhile when I sub at his old elementary school and we always laugh and talk, but...I think one of the goals of school is to socialize our children so they can function as part of society on the job and in the community--and I always felt that the freeform nature of the multi-age classes made his life harder in the long run. Because life isn't really like that. You have to learn to play by very stringent rules in school, college, and on the job site. I sense this comment is very unlike me, but... I just remember how awesome Charlie's experiences were and how they paid attention to every aspect of his development (creativity included)--but I also see what a sad, out-of-place child he seems to be now... As if...he was in this wonderful unrealistically nurturing environment, then taken out of it and he never could adapt to...the mediocrity of most of the rest of the world.
This almost makes me cry rereading it, because who would want to put their child into an environment out of which his or her child would reach their maximum creative potential--particularly creative parents like me and like Liz?
I know that I think Charlie is different, special, but all parents do. I think that he's extremely unhappy in his public school setting. He long ago lost interest in doing anything but the absolute minimum to get by and is in the process of making choices that are...well, he'll be limited by them. But something about school, the social structure, or SOMETHING, killed something in him. And it's sad to see.
My final comment on this is a video sent to me by my high school assistant which is extremely thought-provoking: http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/ken_robinson_says_schools_kill_creativity.html
Good luck with your choice, Liz, and keep a better eye on things than I did.
Love,
Chris
"I have very little knowledge of Montessori Schools except for a vague belief that they are very 'free form'. My son Charlie was in a multi-age classroom for grades 1, 2, and 4, which was (in my eyes) an amazingly creative place, with terrifically motivated kids who seemed to be interested in everything and do a million different things at once in the classroom. However, when Charlie went to 5th grade, he had a VERY difficult time adjusting to the structure the regular classroom. I don't regret him being in those classes--those teachers are still the best he had. I see them once in awhile when I sub at his old elementary school and we always laugh and talk, but...I think one of the goals of school is to socialize our children so they can function as part of society on the job and in the community--and I always felt that the freeform nature of the multi-age classes made his life harder in the long run. Because life isn't really like that. You have to learn to play by very stringent rules in school, college, and on the job site. I sense this comment is very unlike me, but... I just remember how awesome Charlie's experiences were and how they paid attention to every aspect of his development (creativity included)--but I also see what a sad, out-of-place child he seems to be now... As if...he was in this wonderful unrealistically nurturing environment, then taken out of it and he never could adapt to...the mediocrity of most of the rest of the world.
This almost makes me cry rereading it, because who would want to put their child into an environment out of which his or her child would reach their maximum creative potential--particularly creative parents like me and like Liz?
I know that I think Charlie is different, special, but all parents do. I think that he's extremely unhappy in his public school setting. He long ago lost interest in doing anything but the absolute minimum to get by and is in the process of making choices that are...well, he'll be limited by them. But something about school, the social structure, or SOMETHING, killed something in him. And it's sad to see.
My final comment on this is a video sent to me by my high school assistant which is extremely thought-provoking: http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/ken_robinson_says_schools_kill_creativity.html
Good luck with your choice, Liz, and keep a better eye on things than I did.
Love,
Chris
Friday, March 13th
So I got up out of bed today, literally AND figuratively, to take inventory of what I still have...what's left standing...what's salvageable.
I went to GC to see Jacobs and yelled at him because he left me hanging in a serious e-mail conversation. He said, "You said you didn't want to talk about it!" And I said, "And you fell for that???" We laughed. I saw JHudson with surprise-to-see-me in his eyes and real concern and my heart went out to him for making him worry. I saw Zaq and Carie and Jayme, and Matt and Anthony and Taylor and Ashton and IO and I realized that there's really a lot left standing.
I don't think I'm out of the woods yet, but...this morning, I woke up focused on some KidsPlay ideas and THAT is a terrific sign.
I'm having tentative and careful conversations with my soulmate brother and the fact that he...and I...are really trying......we're being so careful. Before I swim across the river to talk with him, I take my heart out, wrap it in a bundle of clothes and hold it high above my head, so it won't get wet while I swim across. I sense he does the same when he swims across to talk to me.
I had lunch with my other soulmate brother and looked at him long and hard and saw, amazingly, that he was still there, too. I sort of can't believe it. I asked him about it...said I knew how 'I was' and he said (oh, I love him for this), "Well, that's just part of knowing you." We shared some ideas--our favorite thing to do--and got excited about the future. He had a couple of hard truths for me, that I'll be awhile processing, but I suspect he's right. He usually is. Usually.
And now, I need to find my girls and assess the damage there. I need to look at my assorted projects and focus my energies, and I need to get over to the Wal-Mart pharmacy so all this positivity doesn't get washed away at high tide. I know how I am. :-)
I went to GC to see Jacobs and yelled at him because he left me hanging in a serious e-mail conversation. He said, "You said you didn't want to talk about it!" And I said, "And you fell for that???" We laughed. I saw JHudson with surprise-to-see-me in his eyes and real concern and my heart went out to him for making him worry. I saw Zaq and Carie and Jayme, and Matt and Anthony and Taylor and Ashton and IO and I realized that there's really a lot left standing.
I don't think I'm out of the woods yet, but...this morning, I woke up focused on some KidsPlay ideas and THAT is a terrific sign.
I'm having tentative and careful conversations with my soulmate brother and the fact that he...and I...are really trying......we're being so careful. Before I swim across the river to talk with him, I take my heart out, wrap it in a bundle of clothes and hold it high above my head, so it won't get wet while I swim across. I sense he does the same when he swims across to talk to me.
I had lunch with my other soulmate brother and looked at him long and hard and saw, amazingly, that he was still there, too. I sort of can't believe it. I asked him about it...said I knew how 'I was' and he said (oh, I love him for this), "Well, that's just part of knowing you." We shared some ideas--our favorite thing to do--and got excited about the future. He had a couple of hard truths for me, that I'll be awhile processing, but I suspect he's right. He usually is. Usually.
And now, I need to find my girls and assess the damage there. I need to look at my assorted projects and focus my energies, and I need to get over to the Wal-Mart pharmacy so all this positivity doesn't get washed away at high tide. I know how I am. :-)
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Regrets
So, I, canceled KidsPlay rehearsal this evening because I was obligated to go to the Arts Council meeting only to have them not renew my contract. Yep, I lost one of my part time jobs. So what? We'll cross that bridge later.
But the real pisser (as my dad would say) is, that I missed one of those once-in-a-lifetime moments. One of my KidsPlayers, my beloved Lauren, did a stand-up comedy routine this evening at an event called "Pure Fun". She and my friend Dennis worked together on it, she auditioned and she got in. Tonight was her performance. We're not talking about an ordinary middle-schooler here. We're talking about THE Lauren Prazeau, whose very realistic goal in life is to be a member of the cast of Saturday Night Live. And I missed it only to go to an Arts Council meeting where they fired me. A once-in-a-lifetime, never-to-be-repeated, un-make-it-upable event. @$#%$@#. I can't believe it.
Which makes me think of other regrets I've had. There aren't that many really, which is good. Here's the list, in chronological order:
1) I didn't go home to see my sister as Lucy in her high school production of "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown".
2) I didn't go home for my dad's retirement party.
3) I didn't move to School #19 when I had the chance.
4) I didn't see Lauren do her stand-up routine.
I suppose I should counter this with moments that I WAS there for and have been eternally grateful, but...in reality, they are many. The happy moments, the happy turning points, where turning left or right made all the difference. But that sounds like another entry for another day.
Lauren, I love you so much and I'm sorry I missed your big event. I'm sorry. I hope you forgive me.
But the real pisser (as my dad would say) is, that I missed one of those once-in-a-lifetime moments. One of my KidsPlayers, my beloved Lauren, did a stand-up comedy routine this evening at an event called "Pure Fun". She and my friend Dennis worked together on it, she auditioned and she got in. Tonight was her performance. We're not talking about an ordinary middle-schooler here. We're talking about THE Lauren Prazeau, whose very realistic goal in life is to be a member of the cast of Saturday Night Live. And I missed it only to go to an Arts Council meeting where they fired me. A once-in-a-lifetime, never-to-be-repeated, un-make-it-upable event. @$#%$@#. I can't believe it.
Which makes me think of other regrets I've had. There aren't that many really, which is good. Here's the list, in chronological order:
1) I didn't go home to see my sister as Lucy in her high school production of "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown".
2) I didn't go home for my dad's retirement party.
3) I didn't move to School #19 when I had the chance.
4) I didn't see Lauren do her stand-up routine.
I suppose I should counter this with moments that I WAS there for and have been eternally grateful, but...in reality, they are many. The happy moments, the happy turning points, where turning left or right made all the difference. But that sounds like another entry for another day.
Lauren, I love you so much and I'm sorry I missed your big event. I'm sorry. I hope you forgive me.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Cloverdale: Nowhere to Run to, Baby...
I'm turning my many open hours now to movie-viewing. Apparently we don't own anything good like, oh say, "Forrest Gump"or "Sleepless in Seattle" or even "Gone with the Wind", but we have thousands of videos of crap with titles that include words such as 'outer space', 'amazon women', 'return of...', 'from beyond' and 'horror'.
I found "Cloverdale" in the garage between "Hell's Angels on Wheels" and "Virgin Witch". I know I'm way behind on this, but it was something to do while I stayed busy with costumes...
I'm not going to make a habit of reviewing movies, but this one just begged to be put in its place.
Okay, please.
This was, in short, a horror melodrama. I looked up 'melodrama' in the dictionary and this is what it said: " a dramatic form that does not observe the laws of cause and effect and that exaggerates emotion and emphasizes plot or action at the expense of characterization."
First of all, turn on the #$%@ lights. I HATE these movies where you can't see anything. ANYthing! Like "Alien" (the first one was the only one I saw) and "The Poseidon Adventure". OMG. It just gets old. I was WAY past wanting to know what was going on in the dark ten minutes into it. And hold the camera still. I know, I know...it was supposed to be realistic and real people can't hold the camera still when buildings are blowing up and large monsters are chasing them. They also can't hold it still when they're falling off a roof or someone runs over them with a bicycle. We learned that from watching "America's Funniest Home Videos". People can't hold the camera still. The difference is that AFHV clips are like 30 seconds long. This was a freaking...what...three hours???
Second, these teens or 20-somethings or whatever they were. We first met this sort in "The Breakfast Club" and later in "St. Elmo's Fire". They think they're invincible and they have authority issues. In short, rules were not made for them. Were they for real? Everybody, especially 20-somethings, thinks they're a super hero: Batman, one of the Watchmen, or John McClane. Please. Who do you think you are? This is a generation of kids that started out begging for a candy bar in the grocery store: ("Please, Mom." "No." Please, Mom." "No." "Please, Mom." "Okay.") and now are defying men with guns in life and death situations. If I had been the National Guard trying to get them on that helicopter, I'd have just shot them to get them out of my face. "Get on the helicopter." "No." Get on the helicopter." "No." "Get on the helicopter." "No." BLAMMO!!
The opening party sequence went on way too long. Was that supposed to make me have empathy and care about these characters when they start dropping like flies (mostly because of their own stupidity)? Shades of "Less than Zero". Boring, self-indulgence. And that was one amazing vid-cam battery, wasn't it???
My three least favorite phrases:
1) I'm going with you.
2) We gotta get out of here.
3) Are you okay?
Let's address them one at a time.
1) "I'm going with you." What kind of simple-minded female (because it's always a female, now, isn't it?) says this? I wonder why they didn't just start playing Little Peggy March's hit, "..I will follow him...follow him wherever he may go...there isn't an ocean too deep...a monster so scary that would keep...keep me away!" Gag. I promise you, this is something you will never hear me say. More than likely, I would say, "I'm getting the $#% out of here. You do what's best for you." Or maybe even, "You're coming with me or you're going to sit in time out." Begging the fact that the only ones I would ever have to say this to were my kids, of course.
2) "We gotta get outta here." No shit, Sherlock. And if you weren't so bent on "I'm going with you", you could have had your chance!!! Any number of times!!!
3) "Are you okay?" FUCK, NO, we're not okay!!! NONE OF US WILL EVER BE OKAY AGAIN!!! We're talking PTSD for LIFE, IF we live. This one here has lost all his family members. This one here has been bitten by a giant bug (which we saw in "King Kong", thank you very much). This one here just got half-eaten by Carnasaur (but the camera survived!!) OMG.
So what happened to the chick that got bit? Did she just explode? Apparently. No original ideas here. That was the ONE scene from "Alien" that took place in a clean, well-lit room.
Did they really think that girl was still alive, still there, waiting for them at the apartment??? Yes. They. Did. And by golly, she was! Under a bunch of crap, but her beautiful and emotive face were virtually untouched.
The dialogue. Excuse while I get my barf bag. Who wrote this? George Lucas?
Her: "Is it really you? Oh...you...came...back...for me..."
Him: "Of course I did..." [background roaring and rumbling] "OH SHIT!! We gotta get outta here." Such poignancy.
Okay. Yes, it did have two things going for it:
1) In spite of the annoying camera work, it was innovative. Sort of like "Blair Witch", but updated...
2) And the obvious 9/11 similarities were chilling. But that's all.
So here comes Charlie, my 17-year-old. He says, "You obviously didn't understand it. And by the way, it's Cloverfield, not Cloverdale." Well, whatever. It was still stupid.
I found "Cloverdale" in the garage between "Hell's Angels on Wheels" and "Virgin Witch". I know I'm way behind on this, but it was something to do while I stayed busy with costumes...
I'm not going to make a habit of reviewing movies, but this one just begged to be put in its place.
Okay, please.
This was, in short, a horror melodrama. I looked up 'melodrama' in the dictionary and this is what it said: " a dramatic form that does not observe the laws of cause and effect and that exaggerates emotion and emphasizes plot or action at the expense of characterization."
First of all, turn on the #$%@ lights. I HATE these movies where you can't see anything. ANYthing! Like "Alien" (the first one was the only one I saw) and "The Poseidon Adventure". OMG. It just gets old. I was WAY past wanting to know what was going on in the dark ten minutes into it. And hold the camera still. I know, I know...it was supposed to be realistic and real people can't hold the camera still when buildings are blowing up and large monsters are chasing them. They also can't hold it still when they're falling off a roof or someone runs over them with a bicycle. We learned that from watching "America's Funniest Home Videos". People can't hold the camera still. The difference is that AFHV clips are like 30 seconds long. This was a freaking...what...three hours???
Second, these teens or 20-somethings or whatever they were. We first met this sort in "The Breakfast Club" and later in "St. Elmo's Fire". They think they're invincible and they have authority issues. In short, rules were not made for them. Were they for real? Everybody, especially 20-somethings, thinks they're a super hero: Batman, one of the Watchmen, or John McClane. Please. Who do you think you are? This is a generation of kids that started out begging for a candy bar in the grocery store: ("Please, Mom." "No." Please, Mom." "No." "Please, Mom." "Okay.") and now are defying men with guns in life and death situations. If I had been the National Guard trying to get them on that helicopter, I'd have just shot them to get them out of my face. "Get on the helicopter." "No." Get on the helicopter." "No." "Get on the helicopter." "No." BLAMMO!!
The opening party sequence went on way too long. Was that supposed to make me have empathy and care about these characters when they start dropping like flies (mostly because of their own stupidity)? Shades of "Less than Zero". Boring, self-indulgence. And that was one amazing vid-cam battery, wasn't it???
My three least favorite phrases:
1) I'm going with you.
2) We gotta get out of here.
3) Are you okay?
Let's address them one at a time.
1) "I'm going with you." What kind of simple-minded female (because it's always a female, now, isn't it?) says this? I wonder why they didn't just start playing Little Peggy March's hit, "..I will follow him...follow him wherever he may go...there isn't an ocean too deep...a monster so scary that would keep...keep me away!" Gag. I promise you, this is something you will never hear me say. More than likely, I would say, "I'm getting the $#% out of here. You do what's best for you." Or maybe even, "You're coming with me or you're going to sit in time out." Begging the fact that the only ones I would ever have to say this to were my kids, of course.
2) "We gotta get outta here." No shit, Sherlock. And if you weren't so bent on "I'm going with you", you could have had your chance!!! Any number of times!!!
3) "Are you okay?" FUCK, NO, we're not okay!!! NONE OF US WILL EVER BE OKAY AGAIN!!! We're talking PTSD for LIFE, IF we live. This one here has lost all his family members. This one here has been bitten by a giant bug (which we saw in "King Kong", thank you very much). This one here just got half-eaten by Carnasaur (but the camera survived!!) OMG.
So what happened to the chick that got bit? Did she just explode? Apparently. No original ideas here. That was the ONE scene from "Alien" that took place in a clean, well-lit room.
Did they really think that girl was still alive, still there, waiting for them at the apartment??? Yes. They. Did. And by golly, she was! Under a bunch of crap, but her beautiful and emotive face were virtually untouched.
The dialogue. Excuse while I get my barf bag. Who wrote this? George Lucas?
Her: "Is it really you? Oh...you...came...back...for me..."
Him: "Of course I did..." [background roaring and rumbling] "OH SHIT!! We gotta get outta here." Such poignancy.
Okay. Yes, it did have two things going for it:
1) In spite of the annoying camera work, it was innovative. Sort of like "Blair Witch", but updated...
2) And the obvious 9/11 similarities were chilling. But that's all.
So here comes Charlie, my 17-year-old. He says, "You obviously didn't understand it. And by the way, it's Cloverfield, not Cloverdale." Well, whatever. It was still stupid.
Dream Theme: Friends/Travel/Tornadoes
Dream One: I dreamed I was in a room playing Werewolf with the cast of "The Odd Couple" in spite of the fact that I have sworn off Werewolf (and adult theatre).
Dream Two: Traveling with the family--out west, South Dakota or someplace like it. We stopped at a campground where there was some construction going on. It was very open air...dry...you could see for miles. I think we set up camp and the kids were relaxing. The staff of the campground were construction types. It was a bit unsettling that there seemed to be..a lot of voodoo accouterments laying/hanging around. We were just settling in when the construction guys started packing up and advised us to do the same. Something was coming, but I didn't quite get what... Something evil? Or storms? I looked at the horizon and saw a big black cloud of dust, like the ones in "Wall*E"...but maybe also some funnel clouds forming. Their advice was that we should get on the road because then at least we could see the storms (?) and drive away from and around them. So I started throwing stuff in the car and yelling at the boys to pack up as quickly as possible. They were mad, nasty to me, and so forth, but....I'm the mom and they have to do what I say....
Self-analysis: Okay, there's lots in this second dream from recent life.
1) First of all, traveling is a recurring theme, as are storms.
2) Tornadoes and bears have always been the symbols of stress in my dreams dating way back....
3) The voodoo accoutrements were like the ones on the native island in the recently watched "King Kong"
4) The dust cloud from the also recently watched "Wall*E".
5) Yelling at the kids, which is what I do every morning to get them out the door and on the bus. And they're mean back to me.
6) Construction? From the Studio? We're just in their way?
Finally, three remembered dreams in three days. Three days in a row of migraines, and migraine medicine. Hmmm.
Dream Two: Traveling with the family--out west, South Dakota or someplace like it. We stopped at a campground where there was some construction going on. It was very open air...dry...you could see for miles. I think we set up camp and the kids were relaxing. The staff of the campground were construction types. It was a bit unsettling that there seemed to be..a lot of voodoo accouterments laying/hanging around. We were just settling in when the construction guys started packing up and advised us to do the same. Something was coming, but I didn't quite get what... Something evil? Or storms? I looked at the horizon and saw a big black cloud of dust, like the ones in "Wall*E"...but maybe also some funnel clouds forming. Their advice was that we should get on the road because then at least we could see the storms (?) and drive away from and around them. So I started throwing stuff in the car and yelling at the boys to pack up as quickly as possible. They were mad, nasty to me, and so forth, but....I'm the mom and they have to do what I say....
Self-analysis: Okay, there's lots in this second dream from recent life.
1) First of all, traveling is a recurring theme, as are storms.
2) Tornadoes and bears have always been the symbols of stress in my dreams dating way back....
3) The voodoo accoutrements were like the ones on the native island in the recently watched "King Kong"
4) The dust cloud from the also recently watched "Wall*E".
5) Yelling at the kids, which is what I do every morning to get them out the door and on the bus. And they're mean back to me.
6) Construction? From the Studio? We're just in their way?
Finally, three remembered dreams in three days. Three days in a row of migraines, and migraine medicine. Hmmm.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Dream Theme: Miscellaneous
This afternoon (during my nap), I dreamed that I was depressed, so depressed that all I wanted to do was sleep. Hmm. And I slept through this year's Hancock County Children's Theatre production. Go figure. In the dream, I was asleep, just wanted to sleep, and I couldn't make myself get up and go to the performance. In the dream, I would wake up, but feel so sluggish that I couldn't move to get up. And I knew that Rachelle and Dennis would be so disappointed that I hadn't gone to see the kids in their show....
A Matter-of-Fact Approach
"Here comes the rain again, falling on my head like a memory...."
Here we go again. All the signs are there. The too much sleeping...all this writing...and the iPod... The iPod is out and on for the first time...well, since I left Marshall, actually. Theory: if I can fill my head with the music, then it drowns out the silence and it blocks out the constant internal stream of conversation.
Can I stop it? I don't know. Will it just...pass? I don't know. Why don't I do something about it? Why don't I do something to help myself? Or maybe I can't. Maybe I won't until all that's important to me has been destroyed, pushed away. I'm working on that now. Tearing out big hunks, little hunks of my life, like old drywall. Chuckle. Nice analogy considering. Almost like an out-of-body experience. Just...watching myself do it with an 'oh, well' attitude. Threw away that, pushed away him, hurt her, no, don't want to talk, no you didn't do anything wrong, I'm just...doing to myself what I deserve. Just let it be, okay? Let it be, let it be....
Am I just one of those people who needs to get on something and STAY there? God, I hate taking that stuff. It cuts out the lows, but there are times when it's right to cry, when I need those tears; but it also cuts out the highs and I NEED those, too, like I need air to breath. Who can create anything without that high, that passion, that love...??
I can see my whole history from here, dating back to junior high, like the ebb and flow of the tide. The worst time was years and years ago when I realized how being a parent changes relationships. I got lost somewhere. A half-assed teacher and a half-assed mom, not able to do both; and that my friends had a freedom that could not be afforded to a mom. It got bad and I put them all through hell with my self-destructive nonsense. John was working a second job so I never saw him...and he never saw me either. I don't think he even knew anything was wrong, just Chris being her usual moody self. So these...low tide episodes have always been associated with. ...loss of some kind, something, someone I really loved...as it is this time, too, I guess.
But lordy, it's so boring, so self-centered, so 'all-about-me'. Who can stand it? Who of my people who've seen it before want to watch a second or a third or a fourth? Nauseating. No wonder everyone is steering clear. I don't blame them. Jesus, I would, too. It gets old after awhile. All this, 'oh, I'm so sad/lonely/confused...' Gag. I, personally, have very little tolerance for that and I don't expect any one else, too, either.
But on the other hand, it is alluring...like the dark side, the dark arts... Good grief, do I actually LIKE going there? It is VERY alluring...all this introspection, this writing, like a drug all its own. And clearing stuff away like old baggage can be very focusing. Depression has long been the haunt of writers, poets, actors... Why is that? Why don't I just become an alcoholic like Oscar Wilde or Scott Fitzgerald or a drug fiend like Morrison (ick)? Alcoholism...drug addiction is something people understand, and, to an extent, tolerate. And they still love you, they encourage you to get help. Depression, the world's biggest pity party, is not tolerated. People get bored with it. They can't stand to be around you. I can't stand to be around myself either.
And this'll be my last post on this. I've been working on it for several days and I think I've just about covered it all. :-) In any case, it's now 11:52 a.m. and it's really time to get up, isn't it?
Here we go again. All the signs are there. The too much sleeping...all this writing...and the iPod... The iPod is out and on for the first time...well, since I left Marshall, actually. Theory: if I can fill my head with the music, then it drowns out the silence and it blocks out the constant internal stream of conversation.
Can I stop it? I don't know. Will it just...pass? I don't know. Why don't I do something about it? Why don't I do something to help myself? Or maybe I can't. Maybe I won't until all that's important to me has been destroyed, pushed away. I'm working on that now. Tearing out big hunks, little hunks of my life, like old drywall. Chuckle. Nice analogy considering. Almost like an out-of-body experience. Just...watching myself do it with an 'oh, well' attitude. Threw away that, pushed away him, hurt her, no, don't want to talk, no you didn't do anything wrong, I'm just...doing to myself what I deserve. Just let it be, okay? Let it be, let it be....
Am I just one of those people who needs to get on something and STAY there? God, I hate taking that stuff. It cuts out the lows, but there are times when it's right to cry, when I need those tears; but it also cuts out the highs and I NEED those, too, like I need air to breath. Who can create anything without that high, that passion, that love...??
I can see my whole history from here, dating back to junior high, like the ebb and flow of the tide. The worst time was years and years ago when I realized how being a parent changes relationships. I got lost somewhere. A half-assed teacher and a half-assed mom, not able to do both; and that my friends had a freedom that could not be afforded to a mom. It got bad and I put them all through hell with my self-destructive nonsense. John was working a second job so I never saw him...and he never saw me either. I don't think he even knew anything was wrong, just Chris being her usual moody self. So these...low tide episodes have always been associated with. ...loss of some kind, something, someone I really loved...as it is this time, too, I guess.
But lordy, it's so boring, so self-centered, so 'all-about-me'. Who can stand it? Who of my people who've seen it before want to watch a second or a third or a fourth? Nauseating. No wonder everyone is steering clear. I don't blame them. Jesus, I would, too. It gets old after awhile. All this, 'oh, I'm so sad/lonely/confused...' Gag. I, personally, have very little tolerance for that and I don't expect any one else, too, either.
But on the other hand, it is alluring...like the dark side, the dark arts... Good grief, do I actually LIKE going there? It is VERY alluring...all this introspection, this writing, like a drug all its own. And clearing stuff away like old baggage can be very focusing. Depression has long been the haunt of writers, poets, actors... Why is that? Why don't I just become an alcoholic like Oscar Wilde or Scott Fitzgerald or a drug fiend like Morrison (ick)? Alcoholism...drug addiction is something people understand, and, to an extent, tolerate. And they still love you, they encourage you to get help. Depression, the world's biggest pity party, is not tolerated. People get bored with it. They can't stand to be around you. I can't stand to be around myself either.
And this'll be my last post on this. I've been working on it for several days and I think I've just about covered it all. :-) In any case, it's now 11:52 a.m. and it's really time to get up, isn't it?
Monday, March 9, 2009
Jury Duty
They dismissed me! They DISMISSED ME!!! I honestly feel like I got cut from the audition!!!
In January, I got a letter asking me to report for jury duty on 3/9. I spent weeks discussing with others what I could do to get out of it. It wasn't so much that I didn't want to step up to the plate and perform my civic duty, but I was seriously worried about my ability to sit still and listen. "Have SATAN tattooed on your forehead before you go in," suggested JS. "Ooh, good idea!" Or I could just say, "Well, did the bitch/bastard deserve it?" ZC suggested: "I like kids, preferably 12-year-olds, but I'm not picky." LM suggested I dress up as Princess Leia (a la Tina Fey on '30 Rock') and explain how it wouldn't be fair to use the Force in the courtroom... Ha.
And so the morning arrived. I packed magazines, my laptop, several scripts, a letter that I needed to answer, and my cellphone (on silent, of course). A caffeine-free Diet Coke, several of John's cookies, a small bag of raisins, and a cup of coffee. My fear of boredom and wasting the precious moments of my life in idleness (which finds its origins in countless, pointless teachers' meetings....) is a driving factor in my life and god forbid I sit with empty hands and an empty mind for more than three minutes...
I arrived almost too late to get a seat in the over-heated 'jury storage room': "36 Hot Disgruntled Jurors". There were exactly 36 of us, and 36 chairs in a room made for 12.....
[An older woman speaks up and makes what was supposed to be joke about how she never got called for jury duty while she was working, but since she retired, she's been called three times. Her business? Real estate. She adds that she wouldn't begin to try to sell her house now....]
[Another guy made a general discussion-starting comment about how poorly Purdue had done the night before, but no one bit.]
We saw a video about the jury selection process called "Duty, Honor, Privilege" which featured a cameo by Indiana Supreme Court Justice Randall T. Shepherd. He talked about how jury duty may seem like an interruption in your life, but it was really a duty, an honor, and, yous guessed it, a privilege. But I would be willing to bet somehow, that he was excused...
[I can't believe all these people around me who have NOTHING...no book, no magazine... A couple do, but most don't.]
So then, after the vid, we're called out into the courtroom where it is infinitely cooler. I'm told to sit in chair #2, which is in the front row of the jury box. I see the punky young defendant sitting with his lawyer, who looks a little like KMac, at the table to the left; I see the very young DA sitting with a plainclothes officer (as evidenced by the shoulder holster gun).
The judge welcomes us and asks if everyone can hear. The acoustics are terrible, but I can hear. The lady in the third row can't. She asks why they don't wear mics. I marvel at this for a moment as the judge leans forward into his desk microphone to explain that they got a lot of things when they renovated, but getting them individual lapel mics was not one of them.
[Hmm. It really is a beautiful room. Wonderfully painted. Lovely woodwork. But what about those brass-plated electrical outlets ten feet up the wall? I know they're ten feet because they're taller than our flats. What could possibly be plugged into those?]
[And look at those stained-glass windows. Wow. Lavender flowers. Hmm. Rings a bell. Where have I recently seen lavender flowers...?]
The DA is now asking individual questions of each of the jurors. Do we know him? A couple do. I don't. He asks juror #1 (beside me) a question which eludes me now. And then he turns to me. "Mrs. Schaefer? You're a teacher?"
"I used to be, yes."
When kids came to you with a problem, how did you decide who was right? Who did you believe?"
"I didn't believe either of them. I only believed what I saw with my own eyes and heard with my own ears."
He then said, "Would you be more likely to believe this policeman because he has a gun and a badge?"
I frowned a little, and I said, "No."
The DA moved on and through the process of some explanation and some questioning, we learn that the defendant made threats to his ex-wife and his ex-wife's family. The policeman and some other people were going to testify for the wife's family. The hapless defendant's only witness was his father. Snort. Some of the questions involved whether or not parents tell the truth even when their children are in trouble. All of the parents who were questioned along that line said that no matter what, they loved their child, but they would still tell the truth. Right. I watch too much news and too much Jerry Springer to believe THAT for one minute. Parents will say whatever will get their kids out of trouble, jail, detention, a bad grade. You name it.
The older woman in row three asked if they were going to introduce DNA evidence because she knew that was something she could believe that. The DA said there wouldn't be any of that. She seemed disappointed. I was, too.
The longer the questioning went, the more interested I got in finishing out the day. I noticed the defense attorney and his client whispering and gesturing towards the jury pool. Hmmm.
When the DA finished, we took our restroom break. I took a 'text message' break and consequently was the last person to return to the court room.
Next it was the defendant's attorney's turn to question us. He was very friendly and personable and I felt myself being 'worked on' by this guy's charm. The prosecuting attorney alluded to it being a family disagreement. He asked if we thought it should be in civil court or criminal court. Geez, I had no idea. He told us that real 'court room drama' wasn't like it was on TV and that he would try to keep his objections down to a minimum. He asked if anyone watched "CSI". [No, but I just saw "CSI Neverland". Would admitting THAT get me out of here?] He told us that there was obviously a family disagreement with a lot of 'he-said/she-said' and we may see some courtroom arguing. [Wow!] And then he asked, "Well, what if we took a vote right now. How many would vote guilty? What would the verdict be?" Well, I was all set to vote guilty. I've seen his type countless times and I absolutely believed he threatened his (ex)wife and her family. Guilty? Hai-ll, yes! We don't need a trial. Why is this sawed-off young punk wasting the tax payers' dollars with a jury trial????
So then the defense attorney finished his questions and interviews and both attorneys went up to confer with the judge. Can I take out my magazine now? Can I, huh? I've been sitting here doing nothing for the past 90 minutes. I've watched the guy next to me take off and put on his watch more times than I want to count. Please, it's just human decency to to allow us a chance to read or check our voice mails or SOMETHING.
Oh. Oh, they're calling names of the six jurors they want to stay....and, I'm not one of them. I'm not! Why? What's wrong with me? It wasn't like they asked me to sing or something....
They thanked us, promised not to bother us for another 24 months, and dismissed us--and I was on my cell phone before I got to the elevator.
Our judiciary system--one of the modern marvels!!
In January, I got a letter asking me to report for jury duty on 3/9. I spent weeks discussing with others what I could do to get out of it. It wasn't so much that I didn't want to step up to the plate and perform my civic duty, but I was seriously worried about my ability to sit still and listen. "Have SATAN tattooed on your forehead before you go in," suggested JS. "Ooh, good idea!" Or I could just say, "Well, did the bitch/bastard deserve it?" ZC suggested: "I like kids, preferably 12-year-olds, but I'm not picky." LM suggested I dress up as Princess Leia (a la Tina Fey on '30 Rock') and explain how it wouldn't be fair to use the Force in the courtroom... Ha.
And so the morning arrived. I packed magazines, my laptop, several scripts, a letter that I needed to answer, and my cellphone (on silent, of course). A caffeine-free Diet Coke, several of John's cookies, a small bag of raisins, and a cup of coffee. My fear of boredom and wasting the precious moments of my life in idleness (which finds its origins in countless, pointless teachers' meetings....) is a driving factor in my life and god forbid I sit with empty hands and an empty mind for more than three minutes...
I arrived almost too late to get a seat in the over-heated 'jury storage room': "36 Hot Disgruntled Jurors". There were exactly 36 of us, and 36 chairs in a room made for 12.....
[An older woman speaks up and makes what was supposed to be joke about how she never got called for jury duty while she was working, but since she retired, she's been called three times. Her business? Real estate. She adds that she wouldn't begin to try to sell her house now....]
[Another guy made a general discussion-starting comment about how poorly Purdue had done the night before, but no one bit.]
We saw a video about the jury selection process called "Duty, Honor, Privilege" which featured a cameo by Indiana Supreme Court Justice Randall T. Shepherd. He talked about how jury duty may seem like an interruption in your life, but it was really a duty, an honor, and, yous guessed it, a privilege. But I would be willing to bet somehow, that he was excused...
[I can't believe all these people around me who have NOTHING...no book, no magazine... A couple do, but most don't.]
So then, after the vid, we're called out into the courtroom where it is infinitely cooler. I'm told to sit in chair #2, which is in the front row of the jury box. I see the punky young defendant sitting with his lawyer, who looks a little like KMac, at the table to the left; I see the very young DA sitting with a plainclothes officer (as evidenced by the shoulder holster gun).
The judge welcomes us and asks if everyone can hear. The acoustics are terrible, but I can hear. The lady in the third row can't. She asks why they don't wear mics. I marvel at this for a moment as the judge leans forward into his desk microphone to explain that they got a lot of things when they renovated, but getting them individual lapel mics was not one of them.
[Hmm. It really is a beautiful room. Wonderfully painted. Lovely woodwork. But what about those brass-plated electrical outlets ten feet up the wall? I know they're ten feet because they're taller than our flats. What could possibly be plugged into those?]
[And look at those stained-glass windows. Wow. Lavender flowers. Hmm. Rings a bell. Where have I recently seen lavender flowers...?]
The DA is now asking individual questions of each of the jurors. Do we know him? A couple do. I don't. He asks juror #1 (beside me) a question which eludes me now. And then he turns to me. "Mrs. Schaefer? You're a teacher?"
"I used to be, yes."
When kids came to you with a problem, how did you decide who was right? Who did you believe?"
"I didn't believe either of them. I only believed what I saw with my own eyes and heard with my own ears."
He then said, "Would you be more likely to believe this policeman because he has a gun and a badge?"
I frowned a little, and I said, "No."
The DA moved on and through the process of some explanation and some questioning, we learn that the defendant made threats to his ex-wife and his ex-wife's family. The policeman and some other people were going to testify for the wife's family. The hapless defendant's only witness was his father. Snort. Some of the questions involved whether or not parents tell the truth even when their children are in trouble. All of the parents who were questioned along that line said that no matter what, they loved their child, but they would still tell the truth. Right. I watch too much news and too much Jerry Springer to believe THAT for one minute. Parents will say whatever will get their kids out of trouble, jail, detention, a bad grade. You name it.
The older woman in row three asked if they were going to introduce DNA evidence because she knew that was something she could believe that. The DA said there wouldn't be any of that. She seemed disappointed. I was, too.
The longer the questioning went, the more interested I got in finishing out the day. I noticed the defense attorney and his client whispering and gesturing towards the jury pool. Hmmm.
When the DA finished, we took our restroom break. I took a 'text message' break and consequently was the last person to return to the court room.
Next it was the defendant's attorney's turn to question us. He was very friendly and personable and I felt myself being 'worked on' by this guy's charm. The prosecuting attorney alluded to it being a family disagreement. He asked if we thought it should be in civil court or criminal court. Geez, I had no idea. He told us that real 'court room drama' wasn't like it was on TV and that he would try to keep his objections down to a minimum. He asked if anyone watched "CSI". [No, but I just saw "CSI Neverland". Would admitting THAT get me out of here?] He told us that there was obviously a family disagreement with a lot of 'he-said/she-said' and we may see some courtroom arguing. [Wow!] And then he asked, "Well, what if we took a vote right now. How many would vote guilty? What would the verdict be?" Well, I was all set to vote guilty. I've seen his type countless times and I absolutely believed he threatened his (ex)wife and her family. Guilty? Hai-ll, yes! We don't need a trial. Why is this sawed-off young punk wasting the tax payers' dollars with a jury trial????
So then the defense attorney finished his questions and interviews and both attorneys went up to confer with the judge. Can I take out my magazine now? Can I, huh? I've been sitting here doing nothing for the past 90 minutes. I've watched the guy next to me take off and put on his watch more times than I want to count. Please, it's just human decency to to allow us a chance to read or check our voice mails or SOMETHING.
Oh. Oh, they're calling names of the six jurors they want to stay....and, I'm not one of them. I'm not! Why? What's wrong with me? It wasn't like they asked me to sing or something....
They thanked us, promised not to bother us for another 24 months, and dismissed us--and I was on my cell phone before I got to the elevator.
Our judiciary system--one of the modern marvels!!
Dream Theme: Traveling
I dreamed that we were on one of our long traveling vacations. I had let Mom drive so I could sleep and when I woke up, we were on a road that was nothing but a sand path...with puddles. I was a little aggravated with her for getting us lost, but I took over the driving and plowed forward until we got to some better quality roads. We followed the road we were on and ended up driving into the underground parking garage of a large urban, but very modern library.
I tried to ask library patrons and staff where we were, but I don't remember anyone exactly answering the question. All I knew is that we were out west somewhere, as evidenced by the reddish brown cast of the sand and soil.
I looked out the window--I was very high up--I saw the road we needed to be on: a cliffside road that ran along the...Columbia (?) River.
I tried to hurry everyone to the car, saying, "C'mon, we've only put in 30-40 miles today. We need to get going." Mom got mad at me then because we'd done more than that. I'd been asleep so how would I know?
End of dream. What does it mean? What does it mean?
I tried to ask library patrons and staff where we were, but I don't remember anyone exactly answering the question. All I knew is that we were out west somewhere, as evidenced by the reddish brown cast of the sand and soil.
I looked out the window--I was very high up--I saw the road we needed to be on: a cliffside road that ran along the...Columbia (?) River.
I tried to hurry everyone to the car, saying, "C'mon, we've only put in 30-40 miles today. We need to get going." Mom got mad at me then because we'd done more than that. I'd been asleep so how would I know?
End of dream. What does it mean? What does it mean?
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Sunday Night
Okay, I have to write or it might get worse... Is it like a cold that will go away? Or will it just get worse and worse until...until what? Can I just see myself through it? Right now, it's a plateau, a flat tabletop plain. Yeah, a mesa! That's what it is. It escalated for awhile, but now it's flattened out some. Whether it gets better or worse depends on what I do about it, I suppose....or what happens. It doesn't feel real. Nothing feels normal. Everything feels forced. It's ick.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Communication in the 21st Century*: Not Always Better in Writing
So, I'm trying to work up the courage to ask John about going somewhere over Spring Break. The boys don't often have Spring Break at the same time as IPS, but this time they do. We talked early on about going somewhere with Coles, but that was before Job Abandonment. So now, Rachelle is asking if this is really going to happen and I'm trying to find a way to broach the subject with John.
I'm talking with Rachelle, alternately texting her cell, leaving her voice messages, and Chatting on Facebook. Charlie is in the Family Room on the computer. I notice that he logs on to FaceBook, so I Chat him: "Charlie, go tell Dad to log onto FaceBook Chat."
Charlie comes in and stands next to me in the Living Room, where I sit with my laptop to yell, "DAD?! Can you hear me?" He looks down at me when an affirmative answer echoes back. "Okay," he yells back, "just checking." He then returns to his own computer in the Family Room.
I finally yell in to John, "Get on FaceBook Chat. I want to talk to you."
"Okay," he responds, "but there's something wrong with this picture...."
"Told ya!" yells Charlie from the Family Room.
Here is the transcript of the texting:
Christine: I'm talking with Rachelle and I want to talk to YOU about going somewhere over Spring Break. To Cincinnati. There's some great museums down there....
H. John: So...
Christine: So I found a great hotel up near Cincy that's only $45 a night.... We could stay two nights and see the museums...maybe visit the waterfront, see the Underground Railroad Musuem....
H. John: oh boy the underground railroad museum...Why is a great hotel only $45?
Christine: It'd be cool, I think... It's the national center... Here's the link. Look at the hotel: http://www.orbitz.com/App/shared/pagedef/results/hotelDetailsStandalone.jsp?z=37c&r=b6&z=37d&r=b7&lastPage=interstitial
H. John: Is the Pete Rose casino there open?
Christine: I don't know. Seriously, what do you think? Did you look at the link?
H. John: What about the Marge Schott museum? I'd like to go there.
Christine: It's LaQuinta Inn. We've never stayed at one of those before, but it got good reviews. I don't know!!!
H. John: Is it bilingual?
Christine: I don't know...Zach Cass's status is: "Tonight, a comedian died in New York." He talks about the glowing blue penis....
H. John: Yeah, impressive, and he multiplied himself to make love with his wife...
Christine: What a concept.
H. John: She was pissed! Because he was also in the other room doing something else.
Christine: What was he doing?
H. John: I forget. He was solving a problem in another universe in another dimension.
Christine: Oh. I thought maybe he was schtupping someone else.... Did you look at the hotel link? March 31-April 2. Two nights? Indoor pool. Coles are going.
H. John: theoretically he could do that, but he, at that point, had a major disconnect with the human populace
Christine: Would you get on subject please....
H. John: nothing showed up in my hotel link no info no nothing
Christine: I don't care about the glowing blue penis man. http://www.orbitz.com/App/shared/pagedef/results/hotelDetailsStandalone.jsp?z=37c&r=b6&z=37d&r=b7&lastPage=interstitial
H. John: exactly, that was Dr. Manhattan's problem this is just the orbitz page
Christine: Okay. I see that it doesn't go there... Well, will you take my word for it?
H. John: for what? I was in an alternate universe.
Christine: OMG, why do I even talk to you???
H. John: That's what I want to know!
Christine: Don't make me come in there....
H. John: Do you realize how absurd this is!
Christine: What is?
H. John: SEE!!!! All I know I'm not writing right now of things that matter with words that must be said. By the way. I just finished my chapter, nynah! and I'm starting to nit pick.
STATUS: "H is finished with Chapter 9. Tomorrow he will nit pick and revise."
**And this entry is dedicated to Terri, because she thinks that the way I interact with my family is so fascinating. Right.
I'm talking with Rachelle, alternately texting her cell, leaving her voice messages, and Chatting on Facebook. Charlie is in the Family Room on the computer. I notice that he logs on to FaceBook, so I Chat him: "Charlie, go tell Dad to log onto FaceBook Chat."
Charlie comes in and stands next to me in the Living Room, where I sit with my laptop to yell, "DAD?! Can you hear me?" He looks down at me when an affirmative answer echoes back. "Okay," he yells back, "just checking." He then returns to his own computer in the Family Room.
I finally yell in to John, "Get on FaceBook Chat. I want to talk to you."
"Okay," he responds, "but there's something wrong with this picture...."
"Told ya!" yells Charlie from the Family Room.
Here is the transcript of the texting:
Christine: I'm talking with Rachelle and I want to talk to YOU about going somewhere over Spring Break. To Cincinnati. There's some great museums down there....
H. John: So...
Christine: So I found a great hotel up near Cincy that's only $45 a night.... We could stay two nights and see the museums...maybe visit the waterfront, see the Underground Railroad Musuem....
H. John: oh boy the underground railroad museum...Why is a great hotel only $45?
Christine: It'd be cool, I think... It's the national center... Here's the link. Look at the hotel: http://www.orbitz.com/App/shared/pagedef/results/hotelDetailsStandalone.jsp?z=37c&r=b6&z=37d&r=b7&lastPage=interstitial
H. John: Is the Pete Rose casino there open?
Christine: I don't know. Seriously, what do you think? Did you look at the link?
H. John: What about the Marge Schott museum? I'd like to go there.
Christine: It's LaQuinta Inn. We've never stayed at one of those before, but it got good reviews. I don't know!!!
H. John: Is it bilingual?
Christine: I don't know...Zach Cass's status is: "Tonight, a comedian died in New York." He talks about the glowing blue penis....
H. John: Yeah, impressive, and he multiplied himself to make love with his wife...
Christine: What a concept.
H. John: She was pissed! Because he was also in the other room doing something else.
Christine: What was he doing?
H. John: I forget. He was solving a problem in another universe in another dimension.
Christine: Oh. I thought maybe he was schtupping someone else.... Did you look at the hotel link? March 31-April 2. Two nights? Indoor pool. Coles are going.
H. John: theoretically he could do that, but he, at that point, had a major disconnect with the human populace
Christine: Would you get on subject please....
H. John: nothing showed up in my hotel link no info no nothing
Christine: I don't care about the glowing blue penis man. http://www.orbitz.com/App/shared/pagedef/results/hotelDetailsStandalone.jsp?z=37c&r=b6&z=37d&r=b7&lastPage=interstitial
H. John: exactly, that was Dr. Manhattan's problem this is just the orbitz page
Christine: Okay. I see that it doesn't go there... Well, will you take my word for it?
H. John: for what? I was in an alternate universe.
Christine: OMG, why do I even talk to you???
H. John: That's what I want to know!
Christine: Don't make me come in there....
H. John: Do you realize how absurd this is!
Christine: What is?
H. John: SEE!!!! All I know I'm not writing right now of things that matter with words that must be said. By the way. I just finished my chapter, nynah! and I'm starting to nit pick.
STATUS: "H is finished with Chapter 9. Tomorrow he will nit pick and revise."
**And this entry is dedicated to Terri, because she thinks that the way I interact with my family is so fascinating. Right.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Ben and Science
Now that we have survived the Science Fair (he actually got a C on the thing he turned in--two dead plants in a terrarium), we are moving on.
I promised Ben an iPod if he gets all As and Bs.
He told me yesterday that he was working hard on his grades, but he was still having trouble with Science. I know that, at 11, he's past the age of saying cute stuff, but these are worth repeating.
"'Friction'. 'Friction' is so annoying."
"And...'The Force of Gravity' gets on my nerves. When am I ever going to use that?"
Chuckle.
I promised Ben an iPod if he gets all As and Bs.
He told me yesterday that he was working hard on his grades, but he was still having trouble with Science. I know that, at 11, he's past the age of saying cute stuff, but these are worth repeating.
"'Friction'. 'Friction' is so annoying."
"And...'The Force of Gravity' gets on my nerves. When am I ever going to use that?"
Chuckle.
blues...blues
I haven't written for awhile. Have you missed me? I can't write when I'm sad...or, I shouldn't write when I'm sad... The years, nay, decades that separate me from those years of teenage angst are not so many, you know.... And Now is not nearly so bad as a year ago, when it was REALLY dark and I was scaring not only the people around me, but myself, too. Or...that first time...that was very bad. But it's 10:30, and I can't get out of bed. So many things that need to be done. So tired of talking and listening. I can't sort it all out. My biggest fear is that I'll disappoint the people I love. I already have, I know. My biggest fear is that I'll drive away the people I love. I already have, I think. I'm bored of listening to myself, so must they be also. When did I become so needy and dependent on the guidance of others? Where is my OWN inner voice? My biggest fear is that what's done will never be undone. It is, it isn't, it is, it isn't. Am I destined to battle the dark my whole life? What have I done here?
Hmm. Writing helps.
Hmm. Writing helps.
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