Internal Soundtracks

I was hanging out at a friend's house the other day and her husband and her both informed me that I sing to myself a lot. He said that I whistle to myself, which I denied. I just can't admit that one since I hate the sound of whistling.

I figured the singing was a side effect of having a kid that responds so well to it (he has me trained, right?). But they both agreed that, no, I have done this for a long time. I also did not want to believe that. Who sings to themselves all the time?

Apparently I do. See, the thing is, I wake up every morning with a different song in my head. Usually it is just part of a song. I am ok with it when it is a song from my playlist on itunes, or from the current CD in my car. But when it is a song from elementary school musicals, that I didn't even like back then, I find it a bit unnerving. Who wants to wake up with "stirring and stirring and stirring my brew.. woo hoo, woo hoo" in their heads?

This morning I woke up to the words "the first time that you introduced me to your friends, and you could tell that I was nervous, so you held my hand" from a Lily Allen song. That would be one from my CD in my car, so I am ok with that. Except that the same lines kept running over and over in my head.

Later on in the shower the song changed to Frere Jacque. Heaven help me.

So, as I usually do, I decided to over think my habit of self singing. First off, it is a bit embarrassing to think that I am betraying my inner soundtrack so unknowingly. What if I was singing Vanilla Ice in my head? Oh the horror.

But, in all reality, I already have moments where my inner dialogue is compromised by my untrustworthy mouth. I do, however, feel much worse for the victim of my machine gun thoughts. The one-sided dialogue is usually a painful pros and cons argument that does nothing but makes me look like a fickle flip flopper of sorts (damn you gifted program who forced me into divergent thinking and devalued the beauty of concise convergent thought).

So, here is the real point of this post. I would love to know what is playing on my friends internal soundtracks. If you read this and you have an answer, I would love it if you would post it. Now, be honest. If you are really hearing "I Wear My Sunglasses At Night" we won't judge you. In fact, you will just infect us all. Great.. that one is going to run through my head all day.

So, in closing, I suppose I will admit that I am a self singer and yes, a self whistler. I hear music all day in my head. I listen to it constantly. I also write it, and adore it. Certain albums have brought light to my darkest hours and still stand as solid revelatory soundtracks for times in my life that seemed to have no direction or meaning.

There is beauty in being able to identify with music. It frees us from the bondage of defining our thoughts, ideas and feelings, and then narrowing them down to just words. I suppose we just have to be aware that if we sing them aloud, someone may be listening.

You're Telling Me?

Rarely do I encounter a celebrity quote that I agree with. It is even more rare that that quote would come from Kid Rock. But, if he did indeed say the following words, I am in agreement.

"I truly believe that people like myself, who are in a position of entertainers in the limelight, should keep their mouths shut on politics. Because at the end of the day, let me tell you what I'm good at: I'm good at writing songs and singing. What I'm not educated in is the field of political science. And so for me to be sharing my views and influencing people of who I think they should be voting for ... I think would be very irresponsible on my part."

Ok, so I don't agree with him being good at writing songs and singing necessarily, but I find this tidbit refreshing. The amount of celebrity influence over people's political decisions is out of control. I find it a bit astounding that celebrities feel that their opinions are important on these types of matters.

Today I watched a documentary (that's a very loose term used to mask my VH1 veiwing shame) about the amount of money celebrities spend on their clothes, purses, jewelry, tanning, waxing, facials, massages, snake venom injections, shoes, hair, makeup, stylists, "posh" squads and other idiotic things to get ready to walk the red carpet.

These are the people that think their opinion on politics matter? Here is my favorite. Madonna. Let me warn you, I am about to rant.

Two things I saw today really irritated me about this silly woman. First off, she apparently has a crew of people who follow her down the red carpet adjusting her makeup, and her hair, as she is walking. Let's imagine to ourselves how much that would cost. Can you imagine what it would cost to go one day a week to have your hair done? How about every day? How about every minute? And don't forget the people doing your hair aren't from costcutters or the local mall salon. How much would that cost? This show estimated that each celebrity spends upward of 20,000 just to get ready for these events. That does not include having a personal entourage of nitpickers to groom you every five seconds.

In the course of all thoughts one word comes to mind- EXCESS.

However, there are celebrities who I feel are playing the game pretty intelligently. Take Angelina Jolie for instance. She makes her money from her image. She has to maintain a level of secrecy, mystery and desirability in order to keep her value. She does this, and in turn, she uses her money for quite a few charitable outlets. If she stopped being so enigmatic and stopped playing the high dollar hollywood game, her value would drop and she would not have the same resources to pull from in order to fund her philanthropy. I get that.

But Madonna?

Here is what has turned my crusty eye in her direction:

http://perezhilton.com/tv/?videoid=0c07084d64e47

I am sure that this clip is more about who Madonna thinks you should vote for, but that isn't why I am irritated with it. She can promote whoever she wants. The entire video depicts Madonna as someone who actually cares about such things as rabid consumerism, or depletion of natural resources. Give me a break.

The thing that cracks me up the most is that she is showed this video during her concerts. Imagine the amount of money that she is raking in for her performances. What is she doing with it all? How much is spent on the renting of the venues, the fuel she spends moving her crap around during the tour, the sheer manpower it takes to run a tour, the electricity it takes for lighting etc.?

Am I big environmentalist? Not really. But I am a bit of a "common sense-alist". I can see hypocrisy when it is dancing like cheap stripper in front of me. Especially when it is posing amidst portraits of starving children. The only message I received from all this was a huge sense of disgust and irritation. Idealism has it's place- in the minds of the unknowing and innocent. Otherwise it would be realistic instead of idealistic, and therefore plausible.

It's too bad Madonna didn't listen to Kid Rock. She cheapened all the realities of the troubles this world has with her ridiculous antics. What an irresponsible thing to do.

So, we shouldn't be excessive, warmongering, selfish, gluttonous pigs? I'll remember that when I am paying $10.00 for my haircut and struggling to find the cheapest possible pajamas for my ever growing child. I am glad that Madonna shared her message she believes in and lives with such integrity.

We should be more giving and care more about our world. You're telling me Madonna? Ok, that makes perfect sense.

Breathing Sand

Embarrassment is an amazing feeling. It's tenacity is what intrigues me the most. I suppose that when it is coupled with shame its ability to stick is the strongest, like a strange form of emotional epoxy. I have found, quite frequently, that most people open enough to admit it still hold kernels of embarrassment/shame in their minds. For myself, I find that I most often forget about these little tidbits of fun until something reminds me of them, or triggers them.

One of these moments for me was when I made fun of a Bon Jovi song with my siblings when I was about ten. My father was in the room and mistook what I was saying as something ridiculously crass and beyond my comprehension of sexuality. Yeah, so he shamed me. I had no idea what I said that was wrong, but I knew that I should be embarrassed. I was. For about fifteen years, every time I heard that stupid song I would feel that shiver of chagrin course through me. It wasn't until I was about 26 that I realized how I was really feeling, why and how pointless it was. Now I can listen to "I'll Be There For You" freely and openly as Bon Jovi intended. Hardy har har.

One of my friends and I will share these humiliating moments with each other casually from time to time, knowing deep inside that the other will rescue us from the feelings of embarrassment. We simply validate each other about the moment, or just help the other laugh at themselves and let it go.

I have read in several of my "how to be happy" books (I am a sucker for a good self help book) that when we are mistreated by someone, especially as children, and that someone does not accept the shame of their action we take it on ourselves. Children who are abused most often carried loads of this toxic shame throughout their lives. Most often they are not even aware, that as adults, they have formed their opinions of what is "appropriate", "acceptable", "responsible", or "right" by the interactions they had as a child. Many of these interactions were negative and therefore seared these concepts deeply into their minds. Because they were taught to feel less than, or ashamed, of their weaknesses they feel entitled to cause others to feel this way too.

Now, the real reason for this post is this. I think that the first step to eradicating unneeded shame and embarrassment is to just accept that we are going to make mistakes. And, to ask ourselves if the punishment we put ourselves through is really equal to the crime. Most importantly, realizing that the crime is irrelevant to the punishment. Feeling stupid doesn't erase anything or fix anything from the past.

I have a firm belief that the moment we give people the right to make mistakes we move closer toward forgiveness. This concept includes how we perceive ourselves. In all reality, we really don't have the ability to make choices in this life if we are not also granted the right to fail. Failure doesn't have to automatically give birth to embarrassment.

So, if you are carrying those moments of humiliation just ask yourself. Do I want to know more tomorrow? Do I want to be more mature in two years? If we expect ourselves to be more educated and have more self mastery in the future, than we have to accept that we will have been less educated and less disciplined in the past. It is the natural course of things. Therefore stupidity will happen every day and we learn from it and are smarter the next day.

If I am going to be smarter tomorrow, then I must have been stupider yesterday. There is no shame in that. I try to boycott shame from my life, but for lack of a better word...

The real shame is not in growing through mistake making; but in refusing to work through the embarrassments, to accept your faults, learn from them and move on. Keeping our heads in the sand might hide our heads, but it brings quite a bit of attention to the rest of us. It's better to just relive it, work through it and hold our heads up high.*

*Those self help books are really starting to warp my vernacular.

Is Ranting in Season?

Most of the thoughts that I deem blogworthy are born out of long involved conversations I have with one my closest friends via telephone. Today we had a discussion concerning relationships and their relevance during various seasons of life.

I told myself that I would avoid bringing up Barbara Kingsolver again in my blog, simply because I didn't want to appear to be an overly devoted fiend. But, she makes some really great points in her books.

I am particularly fond of the concepts in Kingsolver's book (A.V.M) concerning the irrelevance of seasons in the American culture in terms of food consumption. Her book focuses on eating only locally produced food and those who choose to do this, "locavores". But that isn't the idea that struck me.

The concept that struck me is that it seems that part of being an American is being shown how to expect to be able to procure whatever we deem necessary at any time. It starts with goods such as tomatoes in December (even though most of them are not that delicious) and moves toward such imports as the Tahitian vanilla in my pantry. Side note: I am not a locavore, I am more of a fancy imported food whore. Just being honest here.

But I think this mentality has also spread itself into our lack of respect for seasons in most things. Teenagers seem to be a common indicator of the direction our culture takes since they tend to charactature the good and bad so poignantly. And who expresses more feeling of entitlement than teenagers? Ok, more than celebrities? Ok, more than celebrity teenagers?

Anyway, you can google teenagers and their feelings of entitlement and you'll get quite the response since this seems to be on most people's minds as they struggle to understand it's source. I am sure there is also a term used to define our current crop of teenagers and their respective generation with some kind of letter, like Generation A or Generation B. I'll go with Generation Give Me What I Want or I'll Sic Social Services On You. But, my point here is that it isn't too difficult to figure out why our youth are so impatient and expect privilege without responsibility or hard work.

It seems to me that the American Dream has been perverted into the American Fantasy. Less accountability, more belongings, more pleasure and yes... more entitlement.

So, how does this apply to relationships? How realistic are most people's expectations of their spouses or their marriages? How tolerant are we really when it comes to the seasons of our lives and how they interact with those of our loved ones?

The reality is that the divorce rate is ridiculous and people are terrified of marriage because their expectations are unrealistic. I think that if eyes were set on reality, the expectations wouldn't kick us in the butt. Recognizing how little we really are entitled to, how much we need to really work for what we want, and how much it really is worth it, starts with granting nature its rights to run its course.

Trying to get our relationships to spontaneously bring forth the products (produce) we think during the wrong season of life and then resenting it for not being unnaturally accommodating to our unrealistic expectations is pretty fruitless (Warning: Metaphor Overkill Now In Progress).

Needless to say, I feel that there is a time and season for all things, not just tomatoes. After all, how can we truly appreciate the sweetness this life has during seasons of plenty if we haven't accepted the bitterness of going without during seasons of drought? Now, where did I put that vanilla? I want to make some exotic cupcakes.

Filling the Tool Belt

When Jack was born I had a cesarean section and one of the side effects of this surgery was having air in my body cavity. It was quite painful, and it was wonderfully temporary. But there was an upside to this pain. For the last seven years I have intermittently had strange pain throughout my entire body cavity that felt essentially the same. I was actually thankful for the experience I had following my surgery because I finally had a descriptor for these strange pains. It was difficult to explain what I was feeling to doctors and I was starting to feel like a crackpot.

After thoughtful consideration I found that anxiety was correlated with the aches. Therefore, they became the catalyst to me making some interesting realizations concerning the connection between my body and my mind.

"Thinking is the process that goes on in the part of the brain known as the neocortex. Feeling, or emotion, related to physiological sensations experienced primarily in or through the internal organs and glands. Feeling is the direct, lawful result of the specific thinking that is done... Located within the neocortex is the portion of the brain known as the limbic system. Its function is the control or regulation of the automatic nervous system. The automatic nervous system in turn regulates and controls the functioning of the internal organs and glands." according to Stevan Lars Neilsen, my professor for a course in self concept theory that I took.

So basically, we get info, we process it in our brain, and then we experience the consequence of that assessment as emotions and, at times, throughout our bodies. Life would happen, I would evaluate it in an unhealthy way, and it would produce various emotions (anxiety) and feelings (stomachaches) within my body- pretty crappy ones at that.

After some oh-so-fun honest self evaluation I came to realize that there were three causes to this anxiety. I had some bad thinking habits and I didn't have the tools to fix the broken parts of my thinking.

1. Catastrophizing

2. Shoulding myself

and

3. Becoming overwhelmed by my responsibilities.

I call these errors respectively the "what ifs?", "being bullied" (by myself or others), and the big "t0-dos". I am sure that if I look up the lists of all the cognitive distortions defined by cognitive behavioral therapists, these items would already have a nice tidy name and description.

Acknowledging, and then accepting these cognitive mistakes is great and all, but the best part is when solutions are found. So what were my solutions or tools? For catastrophizing, I do an actual risk assessment. I could spend an eternity hypothesizing about all the possible, terrible outcomes for every situation. But the reality is that these terrible scenarios aren't likely. By making educated guesses based on actual facts I am able to combat this thinking mistake that was so common in my childhood nuclear family.

A few years ago I was sitting at church listening to a musical number performed by very happy-faced, idealized singers. I remember feeling nauseated by what appeared to be a complete production of what a good mormon "should be". My response was to lean over and use my well adapted sardonic defense mechanism to banter with my neighbor. Later, still annoyed by forced cheesiness of the performance, I called a friend to vent and scorn the singers. I spewed my cynicism out, depicting the singers with plentiful adjectives and the assertion that they were up there "shoulding" all over us. The reality was that they represented all that I felt I "should" be and was not able to be, and I resented them.

Now when I catch myself shoulding all over myself, I consider where my real responsibilities lie and what boundaries I need to be employ. I have heard it said that the distance between your expectations and reality establishes the level of your disappointments. I consider my reality and accept it. If I can change it, then I do so. Yet another tool in the tool belt for mental well being. Yee haw!

The third blunder that I discovered myself making involved becoming unnecessarily overwhelmed with tasks I was responsible to accomplish. But I found that making plans and organizing baby steps helped me to overcome this issue.

Now whenever I feel this pain it is an appreciated indicator to me that I am having anxiety and therefore my thinking must be off. But the cool thing is that I am able to figure out how I am flubbing up and cognitions need to be fixed.

Thankfully, I now have a fuller tool belt.

Temperaments and Temperatures

I remember the first moments of my married life terrifying me by what I perceived as shear coldness.  In my youth I had always imagined that the time I spent with my spouse would be electric and hot, more than warm, and explosive with passion.  This expectation was not planted solely on our bedroom experiences, but I assigned it to every aspect of our marriage.  After all, this is what I expected love to be- extreme and dynamic.

When the tepid nature of everyday life revealed itself to me the disappointment that followed was so intense that I rushed to find warmth and to start fires. These fires came in the form of unnecessary drama.  I was unsatisfied, and I was not sure why.  At the beginning my attempts at increasing the temperature of my marriage worked.  I was able to engage my husband in needless arguments, which resulted in manic make up sessions.  My efforts paid off and our marriage returned to the status quo I was comfortable with- a nice broiling climate of exhaustion.  Anxiety relieved- itch scratched.  

However, this pendulum of mayhem wore on my husband, and his response was to shut my dramatics out with general apathy.  I was at a loss.  My attempts were useless, and the marriage grew frigid despite my hardest work at igniting the former default fires.  I misunderstood his detachment as hateful and saturnine.  He was glacial to me and I fought to melt him by any means necessary.   Flopping against the chilly waters, and fighting to swim to the warmer ones I was more accustomed to, I felt disoriented and abandoned.  This was new territory, and I was not prepared for it.   When time would pass and our relationship would return to a relative warm,  things still felt amiss and the anxiety inside of me would spur me toward compulsive fire starting again.  I wanted the heated, sweltering, torrid mess that I was raised with.  That was my home.

Years passed, and I slowly overcame the nature I was raised with.  I found a quiet simple happiness and joy in what I once considered a luke warm existence.  The satisfaction I feel from stable temperate interactions pales the attraction I once had to more dramatic shifts in mood and lifestyle.  

The best benefit from my desire to maintain a higher standard of consistency is that those passionate moments (ones we never truly lost) are no longer self created, born of inaccurate self fulfilling prophecy, or addictive.  They are no longer the cheap result of fabricated drama.  They are real and lasting and quite exciting.  The happiness and glee comes on its own, and surprises us with deeper more sultry and sizzling feelings, instead of searing us with scalding blisters.

I suppose the most interesting aspect of this change in our marriage is that there no longer is a desire to create dysfunction in order to feel.  We sense life more clearly, and more adeptly, because we are more sensitive to shifts in "temperature".  And, because of this, our interactions with codependent, overly dramatic, people scold us with their heat.  We find them unattractive and uninviting, as one would a boiling pot of water.

Our thermometer is stably sitting at happy, no longer exploding into the upper limits of fire or delving into the ice cold depths of dissociation.  Perhaps this is why we are encouraged to be temperate, not because we need to squelch the joy of passion, but because when it comes we are more capable of feeling its true warmth when we are not burned from the unattended wildfires of self induced chaos.

I actually do have a husband..

Most of my friend's blogs are family oriented, peppered with pics of family outings, lists of funny kid-isms, and updates for extended family members so that all can feel connected.  Mine, however, is a place for me to just be me.

So, when I saw that a new trend was developing of filling out survey forms (undoubtedly a contagion leaked straight from the bulletin board on myspace),  I decided to participate and do one about my husband.

So, here is evidence that he truly does exist, regardless of his absence on my blog.

1. What is your husband's name?

I call him honey

2.  Who said I love you first?

He said it first in German.  Still don't know why.  I said it first in English.

3.  Who is taller?

Him, thank goodness

4.  Who is smarter?

He is much smarter than me, and I am much more intelligent than him.  At least that is what he tells me.

5.  Who is more sensitive?

I am.

6.  Who does the laundry?

Me

7.  Who sleeps on the right side of the bed?

We fight over this.  I like to b/c I can get to the baby faster that way.  He likes to so he can fight imaginary burglers that might get in our house and past our psycho hypervigilant alarm system.

8.  Who pays the bills?

Whoever has the time that month.  Me when he is gone, him when he is home usually.

9.  Who cooks more?

I do.  I love to cook with a sick passion.

10.  What meals do you cook together?

We usually do this locust like swarming after church every sunday and just pull together strange conglomerations of food.  Otherwise, he watches the kid while I play chef.

11.  Who is more stubborn?

I have no idea.

12.  Who is the first to admit they are wrong?

You know... I think we admit we are wrong when we are.  If we aren't then we don't.

13.  Who is more clean?

I am more clean, but he is more organized by far.

14.  Who has more siblings?

Him

15.  Who wears the pants in the relationship?

We both do.  Sometimes it gets crowded.

16.  What do you like to do together?

We like to lay in bed and talk, we like to hang out with our baby, do outdoorsy stuff.  One thing we really like to do is eat picnic style while watching a movie in the basement.

17.  Who eats more sweets?

Him, by far.

18.  Guilty Pleasures?

Our weekly dates (before baby was born.. ) of a movie and dinner with all the perks- frozen drinks and appetizers and dessert.

19.  How did you meet? 

Through friends from church.

Yeah, this post is going to stay up about two days... three is the most I give it. I can't see anyone actually reading it.  If you do, I'll be surprised.

Fish Are Friends, And Food...

About ten years ago I took a trip to San Diego to visit with my future in-laws. My boyfriend's father, sensing that his son might be serious about me, took it upon himself to test what type of girl might be joining their family one day. He was concerned that I would be a "princess". I suppose he wanted to make sure I could handle the daunting task of being a future military wife.

So, he helped me earn my rite of passage into his family by asking me a loaded question: "Do you want to help me clean some fish?" I'll admit, I was not that interested, but I didn't want to loose the clout I was gaining during my stay. So I said, "sure".

Much to his surprise, I wasn't squeamish about the process. I just needed a little direction and then I was set.

Much to my surprise, this opportunity brought with it a great deal of insight and some rather enlightening realizations on my part.

While I had grown up with a family garden, a farm girl mother, and an accessible farm, I had missed the realization of what it really meant to eat meat.

Barbara Kingsolver, who is always so very eloquent, phrased my realization best when she stated in her book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle (yes, I do read other books I promise) "Most of us, if we know even a little about where our food comes from, understand that every bite put into our mouths since infancy (barring the odd rock or marble) was formerly alive. The blunt biological truth is that we animals can only remain alive by eating other life... To believe we can live without taking life is delusional."

I remember as I was sliding the knife through the fish's lifeless body that there was once life in this corpse. That the prickly fins, slippery scales, and still eyes in my hands were once propelled through water with purpose and direction. I felt the blood and insides of the fish pour out as I cut and cleaned our dinner, and the truth that this was a gift from God poured through me.

Perhaps some would feel guilt at this, but I felt gratitude. How often I forgot that my food was once alive, and that that life that was given, that I might live, was of great worth.

I have often heard parents lament that their children were horrified to realize that chicken meant chicken... that the little nugget in the cardboard container actually was once the animal that goes "bock bock". It isn't just a coincidence that those things share the same name. They aren't just homonyms after all!

I want my son to realize that what he eats comes at a cost. Therefore, when we say thank you for our food, we are thankful not just for the hands that prepared it- but the hands that fed it and killed it, and the "hands" it once had! I do not plan to hide this reality from him as he grows. I don't understand why it has become so taboo for children to know that they eat animals! Have we really wandered so far from reality as a culture that this would traumatize kids?

Perhaps it is all the ridiculous cartoons that humanize animals? Perhaps it is the fact that we hardly ever show kids farms except when we sing Old MacDonald? What do they think happened on that farm anyway? Old MacDonald didn't have an Animal Refuge, he had a FARM!

How funny it is that this "realization" I had ten years ago is nothing more than a reality to others.

I'm sure my ancestors would have a hearty chuckle at this post as they sat down to their chicken dinner that had been meandering around their barnyard earlier that same day.

Accounting

Having a small child can bring many opportunities for middle-of-the-night pondering sessions. My son will wake me from time to time around four in the morning. Usually I feed him another bottle and he passes back into a deep sleep, and I am left trying to quiet my brain as it babbles endlessly and keeps me awake.

Recently, during one of these panicky moments of hyperactive brain wars, I started to think about relationships.

For anyone who knows me at all, finding out that I was analyzing different relationships at four in the morning isn't too surprising. It fits my character. But this time I really think I hit on something. A disclaimer- I firmly believe that I rarely have a purely original thought.

In my mind I started to think of our interactions with others as a bank account. Each relationship starts at a zero balance and then continues on, either becoming a deficit of negativity or an abundance of positivity. The thought that especially occurred to me was that when one member of a relationship (this could represent any type, such as marriage, friendship, parent-child etc.) "borrows" from that bank, someone has to pay it back in order for the balance to be positive or at least at zero.

By borrowing, I am referring to making offenses against the other individual or the relationship itself. Sadly there are times when borrowing is even a sweet way to refer to the stealing that takes place.

Too many times in my life I find myself in relationships with people who not only borrow against the relationship, but they refuse to acknowledge that they did so and therefore do not take accountability for their actions. In reaction to this, I sense the deficit, and then pay off the balance they have accrued. Granted, small "loans" like this are a liability of any relationship, especially when you have hormonal or pregnant friends. Additonally, times of stress require us to grant loans to others as they struggle. Hopefully, however, those same elements of grace will be given back to the offended when they morph into the offender role.

But, the kicker is this. I firmly believe that if the "loans" are continually accrued by one member of the relationship a literal form of interest starts to apply, whether the individual parties recognize it or not. Ties are stretched and stressed between each other, and resentments are sure to occur. Until each member owns their own actions, these loans continually occur.

There are saints out there who can pay the loans of their counterparts unconditionally. However, I am finding that I am not one of them. I have bankrupted myself too many times to be interested in stomaching loans and stifling interest/resentments on behalf of others.

I would much rather have relationships with people who can first acknowledge and own the fact that they offend or borrow against the relationship, and then make the effort the pay the loan back with a simple apology.

It's too bad that credit card companies don't forgive debts this easily. But there really isn't a way to put a definitive price tag on the words "I'm sorry" because after all, those words are priceless.

Washboards and Chickens

Lately I have been romanticizing my childhood memories of playing outdoors, and the farming stock I came from. I guess that could be contributed to my reading choices. I mean, who can read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle and not come away thinking they are going to have one dilly of a garden (yeah, I said dilly).

Now, I am doing it again. I am reading Last Child in the Woods and I have already mapped out my son's childhood natural experiences with great detail. I am sure I'll be chuckling later about my naive presumptions as I watch him glued to some futuristic version of the wii where he "plays" golf by blinking his eyes just right.

So, let me share some of my ideals for your reading pleasure, or eye-rolling pleasure, if need be.

I want to have my son wash his own clothes with a washboard and bucket just once so he understands the value of the washing machine. I want to raise my own chickens (my husband curses you Barbara Kingsolver) and eat them. I want to eat their eggs, and I want a cow. I want to get fresh milk and make my own cheese.

I warned you- romantacizing is taking place and I am sure your eyes are getting exercise.

But there is a real base to this line of thinking.

I grew up next to a farm. It had been my grandparents farm, but was sold before I was born. The "new" owners were extremely generous and allowed my siblings and I to play there. I remember climbing haystacks (until I fell/slid about 40 feet to the ground, ouch), becoming so used to the smell of cow manure that I don't even notice it to this day, chasing and petting farm cats, watching the cats drink fresh milk, crying over veal calves stuck in their white plastic prisons, and laughing at the silly rooster up in the tree by the farmhouse who crowed at all the wrong times.

So, as for the cow and chicken fantasies, they are based a little bit in the non-fiction section. I mean, I am already immune to the cow poop. Who knows about the chicken poop.

So, I have been talking up moving to a nice area with lots of land to my husband. I use such phrases as "personal shooting range", "saving money on groceries", "fresh made cheese", and "huge treehouse for kid". Who knows. He tends to be a bit more pragmatic than I am. He is a first born after all, and I am a last born.

Well, until I can make my kid watch his own food eat it's food and clean his clothes the old fashioned way so he appreciates the washing machine, I guess I'll just keep dreaming. I am sure I'll come up with some more ideas of how I can traumatize my kids in the name of education and gratitude.

And I am sure those same ideas will one day end up in a blog titled similarly to this but with the addition- "crazy things my mom made me do".

Purgidy purge purge

I am a purger. No, not a bulimic. But, a purger of anything unneeded. I do not retain useless items, thoughts or even relationships. Once I deem something useless it is gone to me.

Here's the kicker. I am surrounded by "keepers". I've been noticing it more and more. The people who surround me hold on to items, and are rather sentimental at times. I think that my older sister cured me of sentimentality. She would figure out whatever item I most loved and cared for, and then "borrow", destroy, or hide it from me. I learned to love things that can't be corrupted or broken by others. It's been interesting to see that some of the intangible things I thought were safe from others could actually be broken. Painful lesson learned.

So, perhaps that is where the purging comes in. I don't see the need for keeping things that are no longer relevant to me. Countless friends of mine have left my home with their arms laden with clothes, shoes, cosmetics etc. simply because I hadn't used those items recently enough to remember. Therefore they become irrelevant.

So... the real reason for this pointless rant is to inform anyone who might care (no serious presumptions coming from this woman) as to why I erased all my posts on this blog. I didn't feel connected to them any longer, therefore I didn't want them connected to me. I like to interface on a more fluid level.

Thank goodness for the delete button. If only that existed in all the other areas of my life. Things would be much more simple and immediate!

Alone

I believe that how you spend your time when you are alone is representative of your nature, desires and character.

As a kid I spent a great deal of time alone. I found that my interactions with my siblings were composed of contention, competition, slightly sadistic teasing and confusion. Mostly, I craved interaction with them and they craved separation from me. I was touchy, talkative and easily picked on. However, over time I came to find great happiness in solitude.

When I was alone, that is when the true happy moments occurred. I spent hours writing songs, exploring the natural world, reading, and creating rather developed plot lines and twists with my stuffed animals. Oh, and I also tended to my repertoire of facial expressions while I stared in the mirror imitating and creating faces of many sorts.

I want my child to have siblings. But I also want him to know how to entertain himself when he is alone. There will be times when he, as an adult, must be able to be secure and productive alone. One of my greatest wishes is that he will never feel the need to combat boredom simply because someone else, or something else, is not entertaining him. Perhaps gaining this skill will prevent him from allowing others misuse or mistreat him simply because he is lonely enough.

The best relationships are ones that are not founded on need, but on want. There is a great amount of freedom that exists in these unions.

If he is able is to entertain and know himself, he will not need someone else to define him. I think that is the trick, learning yourself so well that no one else needs to teach you your true nature because intrinsically you are already aware and self actualized.

Solitude and meditation bring meaning to those lonely hours. How else would I be so comfortable with having a husband who is endlessly leaving? I find that I enjoy others simply because I want to, not because I need to. This comes from my ability to genuinely enjoy spending time with me.