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It was a downtown/uptown sort of day. It was a sixty degree day, with blue sky above and shoe beaten pavement below. One-year-olds playing, clapping, eating. A mommy day. One of my positive affirmation cards reads, "I am deeply fulfilled by all that I do." This helps because, through example, I will teach my child how to be happy in life. I had one moment of Creepy Mom today. I felt no pleasure then instead, I heard the words, "Um, hello, Cher's daughter...." I'm not Cher's daughter. But I too can inflat the small, diminish the big.
Am I ever going to kick coffee? It seems innocent: flavored water. Coffee, my last nugget of badness. I savor its staining flavor, becoming bitchy if I don't have a cup of the tar minutes after I wake. I'm concentrating on my life differently now so that I am strong, confident. Keeping my word is part of the mix therefore, I write a 100 words today. Sometimes though, this good-girl business gets to me. It feels trapping, I run to a make another fix. It creeps me out, this whole addiction thing. Is it real or reflex of childishness?
Sometimes I wake up and feel off. This morning I couldn't figure out what it was. Melancholy, sleep deprivation? I fear it's simpler. I think it's an ear infection. No problem if I had health insurance but right now I'm rocking the welfare insurance. I don't know what kind of help I can get, if any. It's the "if any" that's heavy. My ear's been ringing for 3 weeks and I can't be tired like this anymore. When I called the help line the machine told me my number didn't exist. Isn't that just like the machine to say that?
I just finished pounding a mini bowl of raisins. Sun's fruit. I like the way raisins make me feel. Healthy, a little young. I also like people. Like how I like flowers. Flowers are excellent. So nice to look at. People are excellent too. Very wierd but it would be strange without them around. It's funny what shapes a personality. Trends along the path of one's journey become life long features, like the much loved Mullet. Like how the hard, bitter winds shape the jagged trees on the Pacific coast. They're trees but they're also intense works of natural art.
He discovered rain puddles today. Standing 30 inches, weighing 22 pounds his smile was bigger than Manhattan. Fog swallowed the highrises and there he was, splashing with his red sneakers. His pants and socks were soaked. Occasionally he'd remember his red, ladybug ball and kick it or pick it up. At first, he was shocked when his hands got wet and raced to dry them on my pants. Mesmerized, I watched him squeaking, stamping his feet, splashing and he had no idea that his beautiful, little rain puddle was surrounded by cement. Again, the power of Nature ruled out man.
I'm going to reclaim the sweetness buried deep in Devil Ducky. With its white body and red, pointy horns its damn cute but how does one explain Devil Ducky to their little one year old? "Yes, Honey, this is Ducky but actually it's Evil Ducky because Satan, the great dark force of the underworld, has taken Ducky over and now horns emerge from Ducky's head." I don't think my Little Biscuit needs such an early lesson about demons. My plan is to cover the red tail with a fluffy cottontail and put long bunny-ears over the horns. Meet, Bucky.
Today was glorious, a gentle romance. A date of strolling, in the sun, while our baby slept in his stroller. My man's supportive of my creative endeavors. His desire for my success with my self is a wish fulfilled. Today seemed like a gift given to us for the work we've been doing in our relationship. I appreciate how simple the bottom line is: I like him. He's a good person. He has passion, energy. Which has helped me during my times of heaviness and circle walking in life. We're blessed to be together. Blessed to have what we want.
For fuck sake. Sometimes the words come so easy. I'm over this project right now but I have to keep my word. My eye's are going to fall out. Tired. My boy hasn't been sleeping that well, growing new teeth. Anyway, the t.v. is blaring and I have to say I'm so sick of A.P.'s voice. The most annoying thing is I knew earlier what I was going to write about but I've forgotten again and didn't write it down. I can't even imagine how this group of writing is going to turn out. I hate worrying into the future!
There are two moths flying in a kitchen. Which one's the cowboy? The one that lands on the range! That's my favorite joke. When I was young my dad casually commented about a sense humor being a woman's most attractive feature. He followed this with a "fact" that most women aren't funny. Ever sense then I've wanted to be humorous. Sometimes I worry about it. And it doesn't help that I'm with a lover-of-comedy. My geekiness is part of my humor, so the moth joke survives. It helps I don't care what people think of me. Ride 'em!
I crossed paths with fifteen people today. Eight in person, five on the phone, two via email. My child, David, Kathy, Local Drunk, Cashier. Mom, Noel, Kathi, Kristi, Karla, Cashier. Arthur, Sandra, Diana, French girl. Reflection is a necessary tool in order to compare what one thinks "is" to what truly is. I've been feeling lonely these past couple days. Yearning to laugh with friends. Then, The Owl arrived and I was gently reminded I'm part of a community. This intensified my feeling of missing my friends but in a good way. I am in the mix. (Alive for Now.)
At times my mind is incapable of wrapping around, what's the word? Thoughts? Emotions? Smallness? This inability to grasp always has to do with death. I'm not very clear about death and have always been uncomfortable about it. There are certain events that I can't imagine beyond the loss and when I have momentary glimpses I get very nervous and child-like. Because it's my big crazy-maker I'd often think about my own death and the various ways it could happen. However, since motherhood has blessed me I'm working on not being so macabre. Being tangled up isn't useful.
I'm thinking of getting into politics. I'd make a great Mayor of New York. Not because I love this city but, I could make it very loveable. Here's one of my great ideas. As Mayor I'd make Madison Avenue into a park from 42nd Street to 23rd Street. Crosstown streets would go under Madison Park. This may require elevation, essentially resulting in tunnels. Bryant Park would be the role model with its clean public bathrooms, tables, chairs and grass. Considering the air here the more trees, the better (lungs). More trees and grass: happier New Yorkers. It's good for business.
Foiled. I was going to write about Pirate Retailing but pirate isn't the word. Rebel is played out. It'll come to me. Meanwhile, I have to think past the Black Sabbath blasting from my stereo. Inspirational music for D. and N. It drives them onward with their symbol making, stoner jokes and busting out new lyrics to old disco tunes. I was thinking it'd be funny to make a short film about three people sitting around a table who don't understand one another's humor. Turns out, via the response it got, it wasn't that funny. Foiled, again. (Laughing with self).
Sunday. Family day. It was cold outside and it made me sluggish. We did a trip to the pet store to visit Smooches. But Smooches has a new home. In his cage was a new rainbow bird who chewed my finger. Name? Niblets. As the day went on my little guy had a hard time. No nap until 3:30. It struck me that soon we're going to have spoken conversations. Right now he let's me know what's what with sounds and eye direction. He does understand my words and nap isn't a word he digs. It's a favorite of mine.
I've just awoken from a horrific nightmare: my father confessed to not loving me. He said he didn't care if he'd ever see me again. This was unbelievable, impossible. I'd gone to his house because my man and I had a nasty fight and I was leaving him. Stressed, I turned to my dad, my friend. As he left the room I took a stroll about noticing all pictures of me where gone except one. In it I'm kneeling down with my baby. I'm looking at the ground, he's looking into your eyes. If all this was true, I'd die.
First, I'd like to say Happy Birthday to my mom. The 15th is her date but in my world her birthday stays around for 4 or 5 days. This is the case with most people in my life. Second, I'd like to point out there is no greater "reward" than having a healthy, loving family. It's a bonus if one is blessed with a family willing to work with one's wants and needs. However, if the wants and needs begin to throw a shadow on the family that is an indication the needs have become bigger than the greatest reward.
Snow. Baby. Stroller. Crosswalk. Lady with dog, dying to get in front of us. Light changes! 15 minutes, post office closes. Reaching the door, dog lady's tying her pooche up. "I'd love to be in line first." Suddenly 6 people try to enter, she's sprinting. Another lady hold's the door for me. Sprinter and I lock eyes. "Thanks," I push forward. Sprinter leaps in front. Everyone stops. "Go ahead." Sprinter thanks me. "Sure lady." Silence falls. We all stop. Sprinter storms in, I wheel behind. She's glaring. "Is there a problem?" She mimicks. Moments later she leaves. I feel bad.
I asked D., had he known being a parent was so excellent would he have done it earlier? He happily answered, "Sure." I, too, would've had children earlier. It's been the best experience of clarity. I'm fiercely focused on being a positive role model. It's the shower of love that's made life more interesting. That's part of the package of "helping preserve the species." While overpopulation is true, having a child awakens a deep love making it hard to ignore the everyday human casuality. Hearing of a death your heart sinks for the agony of the living, especially the parents.
Today I write quickly so I can be free to do other things. Little Rabbit is napping. It's My time. This certainly is a wonderful way to spend some My time. As I hand wrote yesterday's entry I was thinking I'll write about the manual labor side of writing. Most of my work is hand written. Certainly, all my poetry. I find computer writing works best with fiction. Writing directly onto the computer seems hollow at times but I like the aspect of quickness. Also the clicking keyboard can distract me. Then there's the Clear button, Satan's button, for sure.
Today, before going to the playground, he saw his second protest. From the otherside of the barrier we waved to people holding signs, banging drums. People took pictures of us: cute baby and mommy with the anti-war pin. Everyone smiled when they saw him. They'd look at me warmly, relieved the next generation is being raised to care about humanity. At his first protest, he slept on my chest in his carrier. So much fever and anguish over the forced inevitable. Strange some people hate WAR protesters. However, today, we got some sunshine on our faces to celebrate Spring.
Pine trees surround us. The sky is nonstop twinkle. I'm on top of the Continental Divide. As the sun sinks so goes the temperature. We're cozy from the fire and our conversation wanders deep into the night. We drink beer and I know this makes him happy, relieved his daughter has lightened up. This is a perfect place. A familiar feeling of being blessed warms me. I want this place and time to stay with me forever. Now, I hope and strive to be successful as my dad has been with me, at giving my own child soul-moving experiences.
I walked slowly today. I leisurely pushed the stroller through the biting wind, thinking of chocolate cake and the coffee I shouldn't make when I got home. My babe was sleeping and I was happy, a dull sort of happy, to see the latest fashion magazine waiting at my door. In a quiet, welcomed daze I unwrapped us from our winter wear. I softly stepped around my kitchen eating toast and cereal, adding chocolate to my coffee. I knew I should nap too but I couldn't. I wanted to be awake to experience this rare moment of solitude and silence.
Tonight was Family Meeting. Things went smoothly until the end. It wrapped a total disaster. He's mad, I'm mad. I used the F word too many times, especially considering my goal is stop saying it. I can't stand being in a relationship sometimes! I want to be able to chuck in the towel when I say ENOUGH! All this work we're doing and for what? Of course it's for more than I can imagine. I sense it and the warmth draws me forward and as I type these last few words I just want to thank my lucky stars. Thanks.
Backwards. 24 hours. Little Biscuit discovered olives. Funny faced at first but pounded many after the first one. Good red wine, cheerful conversation. Men in the kitchen, women in the livingroom, all of us cooing about Little Biscuit. Amazing purple mashed potatoes with a touch of Paprika. Thank goodness earlier in the day I remembered the dinner date. This jog of memory allowed me to plan the rest of the afternoon so, stress-free, I was able to prepare Biscuit's dinner, go to the park, buy wine and feed Bambi. I dressed up for the occasion, our hostess was pleased.
(Today, there is a basic dissatisfaction bubbling under my skin.) A friend told me after observing me for the past year she knows she doesn't want to have children. She's certain she couldn't balance her Self and the child's Self. Another friend told me she thinks so-and-so shouldn't have children because it's so much work and the job of raising little ones requires an ability to give up one's Self to a certain degree. My friend is positive so- and-so couldn't handle it. (The pressure is very intense, there's so much critisism, friend's become enemies.) Fear not.
This is one of those nights I wish the keyboard would write for me. I'm working on another project and I want to be doing that right now. So let's see if I can pull out of this state of wishing and focus on creating something worth reading. Okay, I just pulled out a picture of Fancy Nancy Pants, our dead cat . In it her are huge, blue eyes are asking, "Do you have any meat?" She was 4 years old when she died. Fortunately, her personality and fangs lives on through the cartoons about her and her bro, Lightning.
I have wild fantasies of being a successful writer. This lacks in originality but I haven't been successful at squelching the fire of my pen, so I write and the fantasy pushes forward. Since becoming a parent my desire for success has shifted gears. Now, it's driven as a means of protection rather than an all-access pass to the world. Also, I had an epiphany. The future flashed before me and my child was looking at me, thinking: that's my mommy. It dawned on me, whatever I accomplish or don't finish, is what I'm going to be for him.
There's a magical place called the Buck Horn in a wild western state. There are only a few truly wild places left in the U.S. of A., they're in the West and stop at the Sierras. The Buck Horn bartender recently celebrated her 84th birthday. She answers the phone with a twang, all the while serving cold beers to the local folk. One of them told my pop the bar allowed only one gray haired man in the bar at a time. My dad told him he'd better leave. Chuckling warmly their eyes twinkled as they clapped each other's backs.
When I was younger I'd get fired up about people staying in unhappy relationships. I couldn't understand why anyone would deal with a cold shoulder or nastiness. It seemed weak, self-hating. Now that I'm older I've learned that much of what is difficult in a relationship, be it lover or friend, has to do with both people learning about different aspects of themselves and about love, together. Interestingly, the Relationship is one of the few fields in life where two or more people, simultaeously, genuinely learn. Much like the concepts, Fun and Worth, Love is intensely abstract and relative.
In terms of managing my life I have a fantasy, I want a personal assistant. I think if I had someone helping me with phone calls, letter writing, post office runs, food shopping, etc., then I'd stay ahead of my game. My game at this point waxes and wanes. I'm ahead, I feel GREAT! I'm rocking the house, my people are feeling good, loved, acknowledged, there's no ugly mail arriving. I'm behind, I feel LAME! I get confused, my people get confused, it looks silly and is silly that I STILL haven't mailed pictures of my baby to my people!
It's a wrap! This one's last. What a blast. Sometimes I wrote fast, sometimes it came slow, I didn't know. Should I let my weakness show? Could I stand the snow that folks will surely throw? I let the fear go and just wrote and let myself ebb and flow. I said I'd keep my word and write through March. I had a great start and then I slipped down low but when I saw my baby's eyes they spurred me on, 'cause to break my word is to do wrong and I'm working on being strong, so I write along.
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