I went out to the club last night, and I kept hearing a friend of mine whispering in my ear, "Aren't you a little old for that?"
I suppose so. But the people-watching fascinates me. I saw something that was to be the apex of my evening. For behold, the floor moved as one unit and thus I realized the existence of R&B line dancing. Who would have thought it?
I know that a lot of younger people go there to hang out, but really, I realize how sad it looks. People either milling about or making fools of themselves on the dance floor. Reckless and drinking without hesitancy, the dim lighting and crowdedness somehow mutating into an excuse to behave publicly as an ass and have it be acceptable.
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
I don't know. But I know where they wind up.
11.26.2008
11.18.2008
the anniversary
It has been quite some time since my husband and I went out alone.
In fact, I think it was not the last anniversary, but the one before that where we went out alone. The night went smoothly and instead of collapsing in throws of passion on the bed when we got home....we just passed out.
The next day, my stepmother complained loudly about having to have watched the children (I have never really asked her before and now will never ask her again), which has always been my biggest fear was to foist my children upon someone as if they were a burden. I love my kids, and they are KIDS....they are not destructive (mostly), they are not rude or talk ugly. They just are kids, and they like attention. However, there are many in this world that are not 'kid people' and there are even more that have had children, went through the long haul, and as they get older, their patience and temperament sour (my parents).
So this year, with a gaggle of clan, I thought that if such a situation occurred, that they might be able as a group effort to herd the children for a few hours on my anniversary. Unfortunately, the brunt fell on one person who rose admirably to the occasion (although she is contemplating if she really wants kids).
I know what it sounds like. It sounds like my kids are brats. They're not. They're highly intelligent, they're pretty well behaved and they are curiously bright. The six year old is the top of her year class in reading, in so far as she is the first 1st grader on their Advanced Reader program and is reading at a third grade level. My eldest, who is 10 (almost 11), is part of the GT program, in the top echelons of her AR program, and was just invited to a leadership conference at the college. Smart kids. But kids have a lot of questions and need a lot of attention. They really take selfless individuals to give them what they need, and not dissing anyone, unless you have the responsibility of the well-being of another human and take that responsibility seriously, you have no idea how selfish you really are.
But beyond that....we actually get to go out. Wow.
We're in the car, and the conversation is as follows.
"So....where do we go?"
"I dunno. Where do you want to go?"
Ack. So, what do I do? I'm a shopaholic - I take him window-shopping. We go to several places, trying desperately hard not to talk about anyone or the family within the scope of our conversation. We go shoot pool. We go play putt-putt (the course was fairly uninteresting, save for the water hazards). We go out to a nice dinner (and I admit, that after 12 years of marriage, I am just not learning that although my husband hates cheesecake, the one and only cheesecake he will eat is key lime pie....which would have helped oh, I dunno, 12 years ago to know...) and then, out of fairness, go shopping for a few things for the household. I call the sitter, asking if she needs anything, and she informs me she's bought it all, don't worry, just come home. So we do. And we marvel to each other about how of recent, we might see each other outside of laying in bed five hours in a week...and we just got to spend an entire day together.
And the house is completely empty.
Now, for someone who is used to a full house, this is almost kind of dejecting. But we take it in stride, snuggle up and watch a cartoon (anime is STILL just a cartoon), awaiting people to come home.
Now, let me go back a bit. We're doing the window-shopping thing, and talking about the things that we like, what we'd allow in our home and what we wouldn't (we both have differing tastes in decor) and what we could compromise on. I would pick something up, then put it down, he would keep his hands in his pockets.
And he knows I'm a shopaholic.
So he asks at one point when I'm holding something, "Would you like that for your anniversary?"
Absent-mindedly, I set it down. "No...not really."
He cocks his head to the side, waiting for a response.
"I just....don't really see anything I can't live without. Or that I'm dying to have. Really...Some of it is nice, but it's really all just junk. I don't NEED any of it."
I thought he was going to fall out.
I'm just coming closer and closer to the realization of who I am, I think. I mean, it's something we constantly work on. But a lot of the time, no matter how expensive, when I buy something, I really just wind up giving it away to someone who seems overjoyed to get it. The stuff doesn't really matter to me. And the stuff that I DO keep, well, I realize that I'm not just wanting to keep it...I'm actually 'holding it' for someone else. Like the girls have some very beautiful handmade things, sewing and crafting, from old pagan friends which I have lost track of. But they are delicate, some of them, and to give them over now would probably sign their death warrants. So, I have them put away (I really could use hope chests for them) for them when they get grown and move off.
Silly, isn't it? But I realize my stuff isn't mine, it's in holding for someone else. At least, most of it.
Anyway...beyond my rambling, there's two points in there. Promise. The first is that no matter how long you are with someone, you still will not now everything there is to know about them (and my anniversary was the 16th...I've been marred 12 years now). And...now matter how long you're alive, you're always constantly going through self-discovery.
Yeah, this is a badly worded blog. But valid points.
In fact, I think it was not the last anniversary, but the one before that where we went out alone. The night went smoothly and instead of collapsing in throws of passion on the bed when we got home....we just passed out.
The next day, my stepmother complained loudly about having to have watched the children (I have never really asked her before and now will never ask her again), which has always been my biggest fear was to foist my children upon someone as if they were a burden. I love my kids, and they are KIDS....they are not destructive (mostly), they are not rude or talk ugly. They just are kids, and they like attention. However, there are many in this world that are not 'kid people' and there are even more that have had children, went through the long haul, and as they get older, their patience and temperament sour (my parents).
So this year, with a gaggle of clan, I thought that if such a situation occurred, that they might be able as a group effort to herd the children for a few hours on my anniversary. Unfortunately, the brunt fell on one person who rose admirably to the occasion (although she is contemplating if she really wants kids).
I know what it sounds like. It sounds like my kids are brats. They're not. They're highly intelligent, they're pretty well behaved and they are curiously bright. The six year old is the top of her year class in reading, in so far as she is the first 1st grader on their Advanced Reader program and is reading at a third grade level. My eldest, who is 10 (almost 11), is part of the GT program, in the top echelons of her AR program, and was just invited to a leadership conference at the college. Smart kids. But kids have a lot of questions and need a lot of attention. They really take selfless individuals to give them what they need, and not dissing anyone, unless you have the responsibility of the well-being of another human and take that responsibility seriously, you have no idea how selfish you really are.
But beyond that....we actually get to go out. Wow.
We're in the car, and the conversation is as follows.
"So....where do we go?"
"I dunno. Where do you want to go?"
Ack. So, what do I do? I'm a shopaholic - I take him window-shopping. We go to several places, trying desperately hard not to talk about anyone or the family within the scope of our conversation. We go shoot pool. We go play putt-putt (the course was fairly uninteresting, save for the water hazards). We go out to a nice dinner (and I admit, that after 12 years of marriage, I am just not learning that although my husband hates cheesecake, the one and only cheesecake he will eat is key lime pie....which would have helped oh, I dunno, 12 years ago to know...) and then, out of fairness, go shopping for a few things for the household. I call the sitter, asking if she needs anything, and she informs me she's bought it all, don't worry, just come home. So we do. And we marvel to each other about how of recent, we might see each other outside of laying in bed five hours in a week...and we just got to spend an entire day together.
And the house is completely empty.
Now, for someone who is used to a full house, this is almost kind of dejecting. But we take it in stride, snuggle up and watch a cartoon (anime is STILL just a cartoon), awaiting people to come home.
Now, let me go back a bit. We're doing the window-shopping thing, and talking about the things that we like, what we'd allow in our home and what we wouldn't (we both have differing tastes in decor) and what we could compromise on. I would pick something up, then put it down, he would keep his hands in his pockets.
And he knows I'm a shopaholic.
So he asks at one point when I'm holding something, "Would you like that for your anniversary?"
Absent-mindedly, I set it down. "No...not really."
He cocks his head to the side, waiting for a response.
"I just....don't really see anything I can't live without. Or that I'm dying to have. Really...Some of it is nice, but it's really all just junk. I don't NEED any of it."
I thought he was going to fall out.
I'm just coming closer and closer to the realization of who I am, I think. I mean, it's something we constantly work on. But a lot of the time, no matter how expensive, when I buy something, I really just wind up giving it away to someone who seems overjoyed to get it. The stuff doesn't really matter to me. And the stuff that I DO keep, well, I realize that I'm not just wanting to keep it...I'm actually 'holding it' for someone else. Like the girls have some very beautiful handmade things, sewing and crafting, from old pagan friends which I have lost track of. But they are delicate, some of them, and to give them over now would probably sign their death warrants. So, I have them put away (I really could use hope chests for them) for them when they get grown and move off.
Silly, isn't it? But I realize my stuff isn't mine, it's in holding for someone else. At least, most of it.
Anyway...beyond my rambling, there's two points in there. Promise. The first is that no matter how long you are with someone, you still will not now everything there is to know about them (and my anniversary was the 16th...I've been marred 12 years now). And...now matter how long you're alive, you're always constantly going through self-discovery.
Yeah, this is a badly worded blog. But valid points.
11.17.2008
blinded by the light
And so I was blinded.
One friend thinks it's a good idea to post nude pictures of his girlfriend on MySpace, in the efforts to keep the pictures privately on his profile for his own viewing pleasures. Several pictures, stripping and obscene to most conservative individuals, are uploaded.
Apparently this individual did not realize that unless he went in and customized his options on his friend updates, that regardless of the pictures being private, that ALL OF HIS FRIENDS AND FAMILY on MySpace would be notified that he posted new pictures, and the pictures, in fact, would appear thumbnail-sized for all the world to see.
Whoops.
Not that I care much one way or the other for nudity. I really could care less if she ran around the house butt-bare nekkid singing "BORN FREE" at the top of her lungs.
Frankly, I don't care that she would mind to do it either.
But the idea of someone posting her pictures without her permission before a public audience is not only reckless behaviour, it is almost akin to rape.
Yeah, I said it.
I think of it as this way - when someone forces you to do something you would rather not do, or they take of you without your permission, that constitutes as rape. Regardless of whatever definition you choose.
So now that individual's significant other is wandering around this evening, trying to sort things in her head and probably plan a slow and painful demise for her partner.
Sorry, if I was on the jury, I'd find it hard to convict her. I almost went into an apoplexy myself. I love her, but if I'd never saw her naked in my entire life, I think I could live with that. And Gods know who's got her picture not to masturbate to. That thought alone is violate.
Anywho, the moral of the story? Think before you act. Never put anything incriminating in writing and never, EVER take nude photos of yourself unless your comfortable with sharing them with the world.
C'est la vive.
One friend thinks it's a good idea to post nude pictures of his girlfriend on MySpace, in the efforts to keep the pictures privately on his profile for his own viewing pleasures. Several pictures, stripping and obscene to most conservative individuals, are uploaded.
Apparently this individual did not realize that unless he went in and customized his options on his friend updates, that regardless of the pictures being private, that ALL OF HIS FRIENDS AND FAMILY on MySpace would be notified that he posted new pictures, and the pictures, in fact, would appear thumbnail-sized for all the world to see.
Whoops.
Not that I care much one way or the other for nudity. I really could care less if she ran around the house butt-bare nekkid singing "BORN FREE" at the top of her lungs.
Frankly, I don't care that she would mind to do it either.
But the idea of someone posting her pictures without her permission before a public audience is not only reckless behaviour, it is almost akin to rape.
Yeah, I said it.
I think of it as this way - when someone forces you to do something you would rather not do, or they take of you without your permission, that constitutes as rape. Regardless of whatever definition you choose.
So now that individual's significant other is wandering around this evening, trying to sort things in her head and probably plan a slow and painful demise for her partner.
Sorry, if I was on the jury, I'd find it hard to convict her. I almost went into an apoplexy myself. I love her, but if I'd never saw her naked in my entire life, I think I could live with that. And Gods know who's got her picture not to masturbate to. That thought alone is violate.
Anywho, the moral of the story? Think before you act. Never put anything incriminating in writing and never, EVER take nude photos of yourself unless your comfortable with sharing them with the world.
C'est la vive.
11.10.2008
plain vanilla...or is it?
An Ode to Vanilla
White and frothy
Cool and crisp
Oh my gentle slushie!
Of vanilla tenderness!
Sweet at night
Squishy so bright
Clear and fine
Smooth and Divine
Oh...my cream soda slurpee!
Yeah, it's a bout of silliness. Some things you just can't take too seriously.
Someone accused me of knowing the comings and goings of another friend. I was like, "Damn, don't you realize that I don't live in the same world they do? Sure, I have a summer home there, but that doesn't mean I can read their mind!"
Or watching my 10 year old have kittens over the fact they've scratched a game and it won't play. And she was bawling over it. It's...just...a...friggin...game....
Someone comes to me and says, "I have a question..." My quip? Before they can say anything, I say, "And I might have an answer."
Someone else laughed at my comments. I said, "Stand back. Don't get cut." He looks around, saying, "Cut on what?" "My wit," I reply. "It's sharp."
As one of my ex's is prone to say..."Don't take life to seriously...you'll never get out alive."
White and frothy
Cool and crisp
Oh my gentle slushie!
Of vanilla tenderness!
Sweet at night
Squishy so bright
Clear and fine
Smooth and Divine
Oh...my cream soda slurpee!
Yeah, it's a bout of silliness. Some things you just can't take too seriously.
Someone accused me of knowing the comings and goings of another friend. I was like, "Damn, don't you realize that I don't live in the same world they do? Sure, I have a summer home there, but that doesn't mean I can read their mind!"
Or watching my 10 year old have kittens over the fact they've scratched a game and it won't play. And she was bawling over it. It's...just...a...friggin...game....
Someone comes to me and says, "I have a question..." My quip? Before they can say anything, I say, "And I might have an answer."
Someone else laughed at my comments. I said, "Stand back. Don't get cut." He looks around, saying, "Cut on what?" "My wit," I reply. "It's sharp."
As one of my ex's is prone to say..."Don't take life to seriously...you'll never get out alive."
11.04.2008
Go into your closet and pray....
So I'm holed up in my closet this evening, hiding out from the world and smelling deeply of the paint fumes which barely escape the crack in the door, concealing me from the tribal going-ons in the house. I am using a color called 'blue velvet' and the color is to match a mural that I am going to paint inside the room, helping my friend to refurbish and make the house look more homey.
And as I am painting, I realize that I am painting over writing. The writing is actually measurements over the years of a young child named Cody. And here I am, washing color over writing, blotting over someone's history.
I'm of mixed thoughts of this. In one hand, I am helping someone else forge new memories in a place they bought to be their home, to raise their own child. On the other...I am obliterating someone else's memories of a place. It is both elating and pulling at the heart strings.
But I move like an automation, trying to make sure that the color is even, this cool blue as it lays over someone else's fading memory.
Time for the new.
And as I am painting, I realize that I am painting over writing. The writing is actually measurements over the years of a young child named Cody. And here I am, washing color over writing, blotting over someone's history.
I'm of mixed thoughts of this. In one hand, I am helping someone else forge new memories in a place they bought to be their home, to raise their own child. On the other...I am obliterating someone else's memories of a place. It is both elating and pulling at the heart strings.
But I move like an automation, trying to make sure that the color is even, this cool blue as it lays over someone else's fading memory.
Time for the new.
11.03.2008
transitional
I think I'm being tested at work.
Well, what's the saying? "Seen in it's true light, everything is a test."
Yeah, buddy.
I figured as much, being that I'm the noob and I really don't know a damn thing about some of the things that I have to do. I just keep hearing the mentor from the leadership program, "If it CAN be delegated, it WILL be delegated." I think I have to make this my personal mantra.
I don't think that the switch is so difficult to me, but I do like to LOOK busy, and frankly, no one respects a leader who won't do themselves what they delegate you to do, right? Or am I fishing here?
I have to wear dress clothes and my feet have been killing me. At one point, the boss even inquired as to what kind of shoes that I would be wearing. I think he was hinting about it. I couldn't find any of my utilitarian shoes (even in dress shoes, I buy flats or things which I can run in...), only a pair of dressy, classic black flats and I think I'm blistered. After day 2 like that, I bought some casual suede guy shoes.
Yes, I wear guy shoes. Chick shoes are REALLY unrealistic. Who the hell wants to run around on tiptoe all day? Give me Docs over Mary Janes any day.
And I don't get the double standard, just to digress. Men wore make-up in Egypt. Men carried purses in England. They wore velvet and lace and heels.
And today? Hell, they get beat up for it, or worse. Much worse. I've no respect for five self-guessing homophobes where it takes FIVE of them (did I mention five?) or so to beat up some scrawny young man who is wrestling to learn, understand, and accept himself for who he is. But anyone who would do such a thing has a streak of violence and cruelty, and any that have tried to worm their way into my circles have been dropped in a hot minute.
And it doesn't stop at just the guys, I assure you.
Regardless....I think today was just a day to rant. I hurt, I'm under fire.
What was that Noobler Elf? Yeah...your hero's quote.
"Nobody is in control. Not the government. Not the Pope. Nobody." - Terrence McKenna
Well, what's the saying? "Seen in it's true light, everything is a test."
Yeah, buddy.
I figured as much, being that I'm the noob and I really don't know a damn thing about some of the things that I have to do. I just keep hearing the mentor from the leadership program, "If it CAN be delegated, it WILL be delegated." I think I have to make this my personal mantra.
I don't think that the switch is so difficult to me, but I do like to LOOK busy, and frankly, no one respects a leader who won't do themselves what they delegate you to do, right? Or am I fishing here?
I have to wear dress clothes and my feet have been killing me. At one point, the boss even inquired as to what kind of shoes that I would be wearing. I think he was hinting about it. I couldn't find any of my utilitarian shoes (even in dress shoes, I buy flats or things which I can run in...), only a pair of dressy, classic black flats and I think I'm blistered. After day 2 like that, I bought some casual suede guy shoes.
Yes, I wear guy shoes. Chick shoes are REALLY unrealistic. Who the hell wants to run around on tiptoe all day? Give me Docs over Mary Janes any day.
And I don't get the double standard, just to digress. Men wore make-up in Egypt. Men carried purses in England. They wore velvet and lace and heels.
And today? Hell, they get beat up for it, or worse. Much worse. I've no respect for five self-guessing homophobes where it takes FIVE of them (did I mention five?) or so to beat up some scrawny young man who is wrestling to learn, understand, and accept himself for who he is. But anyone who would do such a thing has a streak of violence and cruelty, and any that have tried to worm their way into my circles have been dropped in a hot minute.
And it doesn't stop at just the guys, I assure you.
Regardless....I think today was just a day to rant. I hurt, I'm under fire.
What was that Noobler Elf? Yeah...your hero's quote.
"Nobody is in control. Not the government. Not the Pope. Nobody." - Terrence McKenna
11.02.2008
Tagged!
Blarg. Okay, Strife. :) Here goes:
1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them.
5. Let each person know they’ve been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.
*Your blog is cool, so I'll do you one better - I'll post it on my MySpace too.
And here are the six random things about myself:
1. I have a strange talent for finding cool things. It is completely random, regardless of whoever I am with, and it suits their tastes and is generally at a fabulous deal (reasonable price). I can be in a flea market, a junk store, in a high class department store or a rummage sale. Whatever. I'm pretty lucky to drag out somewhere to find something you're looking for.
2. I am highly observant. Things that people don't generally notice or see I can recall with clarity. If there's a traffic accident, more than likely I can recreate the entire thing verbally or drawing a picture, also explaining in detail the color, texture, and additions on the sweater the little old woman was wearing. Often down to the jewelry and hair style. Sometimes this is good, because it helps 'feel people out', but other times it is just information that doesn't seem to have any use.
3. Anything with more than four legs is NOT my friend. I like snakes, I can deal with bats, lizards, mice, whatever...but if it's skeleton makes up the OUTSIDE of it's body, I'll run screaming like a little girl. Maybe not the screaming part, but I will disappear suddenly for a prolonged period of time (unless the offending creature is caught and flushed or disposed of in some form or fashion).
4. My favorite cartoon is the Fairly Odd Parents.
5. I love to take pictures, but I hate to be in them. Picture-taking, photography...you have to have an eye for composition. It doesn't have to be people either. I love to try at it.
6. Weird things set off my artistic mind. I see art in wood grain patterns, art in shade and light. I see the potential of items before me for art, whether its a garbage can of crap or old bathroom fixtures. Somehow things generally get incorporated into my creative escapades.
I tag....Sterlin, Katherine, Jaymi, Debbie, Jessica, and Kristie
I don't know if you find that amusing or not. But I thought I'd take a shot at it.
1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them.
5. Let each person know they’ve been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.
*Your blog is cool, so I'll do you one better - I'll post it on my MySpace too.
And here are the six random things about myself:
1. I have a strange talent for finding cool things. It is completely random, regardless of whoever I am with, and it suits their tastes and is generally at a fabulous deal (reasonable price). I can be in a flea market, a junk store, in a high class department store or a rummage sale. Whatever. I'm pretty lucky to drag out somewhere to find something you're looking for.
2. I am highly observant. Things that people don't generally notice or see I can recall with clarity. If there's a traffic accident, more than likely I can recreate the entire thing verbally or drawing a picture, also explaining in detail the color, texture, and additions on the sweater the little old woman was wearing. Often down to the jewelry and hair style. Sometimes this is good, because it helps 'feel people out', but other times it is just information that doesn't seem to have any use.
3. Anything with more than four legs is NOT my friend. I like snakes, I can deal with bats, lizards, mice, whatever...but if it's skeleton makes up the OUTSIDE of it's body, I'll run screaming like a little girl. Maybe not the screaming part, but I will disappear suddenly for a prolonged period of time (unless the offending creature is caught and flushed or disposed of in some form or fashion).
4. My favorite cartoon is the Fairly Odd Parents.
5. I love to take pictures, but I hate to be in them. Picture-taking, photography...you have to have an eye for composition. It doesn't have to be people either. I love to try at it.
6. Weird things set off my artistic mind. I see art in wood grain patterns, art in shade and light. I see the potential of items before me for art, whether its a garbage can of crap or old bathroom fixtures. Somehow things generally get incorporated into my creative escapades.
I tag....Sterlin, Katherine, Jaymi, Debbie, Jessica, and Kristie
I don't know if you find that amusing or not. But I thought I'd take a shot at it.
accustomed
People are accustomed to the things they know.
SO...with that in mind...it is unfortunate, but the blogging continues on MySpace...because apparently I can't get people to read over here. Well, not many anyway.
So if you have a MySpace, go ahead and add me...(notes are appreciated). My ID is knottybynature and the email is knottybynature@gmail.com.
So show me you care and drop by. :) It's being published there on the right side of your screen.
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