Rubbed the wrong way...

I'm so irritated right now, testy, annoyed and I wish that I was still taking Tae Kwon Do just so I could punch or kick some stranger. Funny too because I was in a pretty good mood just a bit ago. I think it's the constant flood of personalities and demands and needs and voices and, and, all of it coming from four different directions all at once. I can be folding the laundry or typing on the computer and all of a sudden it's like the Hiroshima of noise and other people's needs right in my ears and on top of my head and I feel compelled to put my hands over my ears and scream until it goes away... but it doesn't and then it passes, well, sometimes it passes. In this case, it didn't.

I get overwhelmed with all of it; technology, bills, shopping, organizing, working, playing, even picking kids up at different schools. Some days when they are all out of the house, I feel like I'm in the middle of someone else's movie reel; it's quiet and I can actually think for a minute or two and then wham! the phone rings, the dog barks, the neighbor knocks on the door, the timer goes off on the dryer and my head starts to spin again only this time without three voices yelling out, "Mom, where's the WD40?, Mom why does he keep hitting me? Mom can I have 3 Oreos? Mom, there's a delivery guy here... Mom, Mom, Mom..." and then, shut down or, in this case anger. I'd go and work out but I'm just too damn tired now to get up off this chair and the thought of doing one more thing just adds to the irritation. But you know what? Chocolate might help.

I spiral down very easily, but lately I've been able to pick myself up pretty easily too. It depends upon what is causing the spiral. If a person or people is or are causing it, I can usually let it go... usually. But if the person in question has done something that cannot be dealt with immediately then it eats away at me like an ulcer. I sit and the thoughts fester like cold sores in my mind and I begin to think the worst and then, wham! it's back on to something else. I so wish that people could read my mind some days so that they would know exactly what I need when I need it. Not all the time, but sometimes would be nice; not having to say it. And once again, being in a household of non-analytics (growing men), most of the time I have to pretty much spell it out for them, Tim included. Once Tim asked me to make him a "Honey Do" List and leave it on the fridge. Once... I told him that if he ever asked me what HE needed to do and then I had to write it down for him again that he'd better add file for divorce to that list. I ripped up the paper and said, "Look the fuck around, there's your list" and I walked away. Harsh? Not at all considering that a grown man was asking me what he should be doing? I think not.

I also have a hard time with stupid questions. If you've ever had a teacher or an authority figure tell you that there is no such thing as a stupid question, they were lying to you because there are and if you learn from your mistakes, STOP asking them. Think before you speak which is mostly the problem with which to begin. In addition, people who don't do what they said they were going to do and it affects me and my plans, well that just ticks me off to no end. See, I'm not much of a planner; I'm more of a fly by the seat of my pants type of woman. I want to do something, I'm there and if I don't then don't bug me about it. But when I want to do something and I actually planned it and I'm counting on someone and then they flake... the steam starts to bellow out of my ears and my eyes and my brain until I feel completely fried.

And to top it all off, I've given up red meat and I'm thinking about giving up chicken and turkey too. I don't know if I can give up fish; now or ever, but I might consider it in the future. I'm reading this book, The Omnivore's Dilemma and it is completely changing the way that I look at food and not only what I eat, but how I shop and how my whole family is involved in the food chain. It is enlightening and disturbing and it's made me angry too because I love steak and hamburgers and spaghetti and changing the course of a diet that has been 40 years in the making well, let's just say that my body and my mind are doing some serious re-adjusting. I might have to start smoking pot;maybe that will balance it out. Hey, it's an herb. I don't know; it's like starting a new diet, a new way of thinking I guess, a new mentality and right now that mentality is racked with anger...

I haven't been running either. We did that half marathon 2 weeks ago and although I've been working out every day in some way, I haven't thrown on my shoes and gone for a run and I can tell that my body needs it, my mind needs it. There is something liberating about the repetition of your feet moving you forward and nothing but you and the road. There doesn't have to be any equipment, any plan, you just... go. I might drag myself up in a few minutes and go, I might. Hell, I might do a lot of things.

I try very hard to reconcile being a woman with being a mother and most of the time, I fail. Trying to create a balance often throws me off balance entirely and I'm a hamster, spinning my short little legs on the wheel, going nowhere while thinking desperately, if I could just go a little faster, I could get there. If I could just... If only... and Valentine's Day. With the exception of a friend whose birthday is that day, did I mention that the day might as well be Satan's birthday? I think that it is the most ridiculous, stupid, pointless waste of money, time and effort on the planet. Well, not the most, but it is right up there with Coke Zero. I mean really? Flowers, candy, lingerie? Diamonds, dinner, cards, well, actually, I like the cards, but I'm a write a note kind of girl so that's okay and as much as I like sexy lingerie, it's expensive and it ends up on the floor in less than a minute anyway. So now, when I want something sexy I buy it for myself, to actually wear and if Tim happens to see it then that's okay too, but good lord, have you been to Victoria's Secret lately? I paid $48 for a bra the other day. It's one of the best bras I've ever owned, but fifty damn dollars. I almost hyperventilated in the store. But, I digress. Valentine's Day; the lamest of all "holidays" and you really can't even call it that to begin with now can you? It's a day for little kids and old people and teenage girls who are pining away for their "love." Everyone else can suck it as far as I'm concerned and yes, you may quote me.

So that's it I suppose. I've sat here brooding long enough. Time to go and hunt down some ice cream or maybe go for a run or try again to chase the husband around the house, but even that isn't sounding so appealing. Man, I really am in the dumpster... somebody throw me a life line.

A little ramble...

I turned to Tim this morning and said straight out, "I need to have sex; I need someone to put his hands and mouth on my body..." and then I waited. Nothing, no response but a smirk. So I added, "What's it gonna take?" and he laughed and said, "500 bucks?" and then I laughed. As he was leaving for work I yelled out, "I'm serious" and he yelled back while continuing to laugh, "Okay, good luck with that." Bastard. Well, it was kind of funny, but you know what, I'm getting sick and tired of that man playing hard to get. We both know he's easy so I just don't get the game playing; his acting like a teenage girl who I have to flirt with and coddle and PAY? Where's my copy of the marriage contract, I have rights too you know...

I like to mess with Tim because he takes it well and because he's smart and funny and he always seems to come back with something that makes me laugh or that really pisses me off and, honestly, I like both of those results. I won't tell him that, but he's my husband, there are so many things already that he doesn't know, why start telling him things now. It will only confuse him. I'd like to say that I have a theme for this particular lavaload of words that is rushing out of my head, but I don't. I thought that I'd just randomly "spew" ideas; that does not sound good, not at all so I am definitely going to leave it in.

I think it is rare when you can find someone with whom you have a real connection and I'm not talking about Tim now; I'm talking about more of a friend, more of a friendship that bends itself to your will but which also tests you at the same time. I am a firm believer in the kind of Karma that twists itself around and which puts people in one another's paths and I definitely believe that people come into my life for reasons that I cannot begin to explain. And, if I say that I just sense it, well, that will sound too Psychic Network so I'll just say that I believe it and leave it at that. For instance, the students in my classes; most of them are there because the time slot allowed them to be there, but every so often, there are one or two who happen to end up in there because of some ill fated computer error or because of an alternative scheduling issue and sometimes, not always, but sometimes, there is a reason that they are in my class and not someone else's. The sad part is that I don't always recognize when that is the case, but every so often I do and it cements it all together: me, them, a purpose, even if it is only a brief encounter...

Boys, it's like raising boys. Why am I living in a house of penises? I know, cheap trick, but you're listening now or staying with me for a minute. Even the cats are male and the bearded dragon. It's just Riley, the dog and me and if you think that you are being original by thinking, well at least she's got another bitch to hang out with then you can just forget it; been there, heard that. So, Riley and I try to hold it together amidst the fog of caveman like odor and aura that permeates our household. And don't get me wrong, I like men; rugged, strong, sweaty, athletic, among other things, but I digress. What I don't like are sweaty soccer socks stuffed into bedsheets and yogurt containers that are left at the bottom of a hamper or half starved animals who sit at the dinner table and eat like they've never had a meal before and when you ask them a question, they just grunt. Yeah, well same to you Porky. Cultivating manners and dinner conversation with boys who are 13, 11 and 4 respectively well, let's just say that sometimes I feel like ramming the fork into my right eye instead of carrying on a conversation with any of them.

I pointed to Tim before he went to sleep tonight and I said, "You are going out on a date this weekend" and he smiled and asked, "With who?" Laughter on that one, "You are taking me out on a date this weekend and we are going to end up in the backseat of the car or at a hotel" "Really?" he raised his eyebrows and I winked at him mysteriously. He said, "Hmmm" and rolled over. I waited, it couldn't be that simple, "Yvette, we don't really have money for a hotel room right now" You can see me rolling my eyes in defeat right then can't you? "Okay, backseat it is then" and he laughed. My husband of 17 years laughed once again even though I really wasn't kidding, not about this.

I wish I understood them more or even half the time. I wish I had more patience for when they start whaling on each other. I wish that, just once, one of them would sit down and color with me or actually want to read a story. Raising boys is like praying for rain in a drought... you just don't know what the outcome will be and even if you did, you can't guarantee that everything will turn out okay. Maybe that could be said for girls too, but I'll bet you that it wouldn't smell nearly as bad... Sheesh.

Top Ten reasons to have children...

10. You can force them to take out the trash...

9. You can answer most all questions with, "Because I said so..."

8. There might be someone there to take care of you when you no longer can...

7. Halloween candy

6. Someone to tell you, "I will be sad and I will miss you a lot when you die..."

5. Tax Break

4. Someone to blame for why your body no longer looks like it did when you were 20..

3. Cool toys to play with...

2. It's another chance for you to "turn out okay..."

1. Sometimes it takes a lot of practice to make them...

Doing something well...

There is a lot that can be said about doing something well; really putting the effort in and then having the outcome match that effort. The challenge and the struggle, even if you "fail," are what's important, at least that's what I always thought. Competition is crucial, pushing yourself to the limit, even moreso, but feeling good about yourself when you know that you don't have anything more to give? Well, let's just say that THAT feeling is something you wish that you could experience everyday. See, I just don't understand mediocrity. Oh, don't get me wrong, I am a very average person, even below average in many things that matter like parenting, but, my mediocrity stems from those things in which I do not engage. In those arenas in which I throw myself to the lions, I either do my best or I kill myself trying. And, my point here is that I am raising a virtual bunch of mediocritites and yes, I've just coined that word, maybe the Oxford English Dictionary will include it next year in their annual list of new words to be published. Hell, they put bromance in this year's, I might have a shot.

My theory here is that, by example, my heathen, spoiled, undisciplined, slacker children will see that there is much to be said for hard work and effort and that when they see me busting my ass to do the laundry or take out the trash and grade papers and play with Ty and attempt to cook dinner, that they will come over and help me, that ultimately, they will smile and ask, "And how can we make your life easier Mother?" But no, not my boys. Sure, they are funny and charming and they make me laugh more than they make me cry, but wait, they are still young. But their idea of a work ethic is grabbing the first plate to dish out the food that they didn't make and then rolling their eyes when I ask them to clear their plates from the table. Now I realize that most of this is my fault and I am taking my share of the responsibility here, of course I am. How could I not? What I need to change is my triage mentality of parenting and I need to move more into preventative parenting. One can only hope that it is not too late... For example, Nick complained of a stomach ache a bit ago, so I told him to go and lay down in my bed for half an hour; it's cooler in my room. He did and I sat in his room typing on the computer. Alas, he walks into his room, not ten minutes later to say, red faced, "Mom, I don't feel so..." and projectile vomiting all over the carpet. I guess it was a good thing that he drank that milk with dinner. So, as I scrubbed the vomit out of the beige colored carpet (Tim's idea), I contemplated the notion that children, like Play-Doh, take the shape of whatever mold you press them into, willingly, ably and without question. I guess the questions come later, but by then I can just kick them out of the house. My first question would have been, "Why didn't you just go into the bathroom?" But I already know the answer. I could see it on his face; he was coming to find me, in the hope that I could make it better. I couldn't and now his room smells like curdled milk...

As a teacher, the type of student who infuriates me beyond all others, besides the heckler, is the one who was SO capable and smart and has so much potential, but who chooses to fail because he/she is just plain lazy. I've had students who worked extremely hard and they still failed, but then there was one of these kids across from them and it makes me crazy. They have so much going for them, but, for whatever reasons, they just don't do what they need to do. Case in point, my jackass 13 year old son Jake. I love Jake, you know I do and I chose the word jackass specifically here because a donkey will kick and bray and remain absolutely stubborn and resolute in his determination once he is fixated on something. Well, chuckle, meet Jake. If there were such a thing as a verbal oilspill, my son would have overflown by now. He is funny and charming and he has a great sense of humor. BUT he is also loud, obnoxious and he is constantly trying to find a shortcut to every single thing that he has to do that he doesn't want to do. And he is going to be one of those adults who is hit hard in the face with reality when he goes out into the world on his own. He and I have had numerous long talks about his life and his goals and his dreams and at almost 14, time is running out for my role in his decision making process. A few more years and he will have to figure it out and I will no longer hold the mold, by then, he will have broken mine and begun to form his own. At least I hope so. He will blatantly say to me, "I didn't do it because I didn't want to..." as if that were going to hold any kind of water with me. Nope, in my boat he'd be cast overboard with no life preserver. I just want him to understand that the reward is inherent in the work that he puts into whatever he wants to do or be and if he cannot follow mine or Tim's example then I'm going to just have to start beating his ass...

Rosh, Emma, Coco and I (not counting Salvador because he runs great no matter what) ran a 1/2 marathon last Sunday and not one of us wanted to do it. On top of which, Coco and Rosh were both nursing legitimate injuries and Emma, man, she was nursing a hangover and not having run for awhile and me, well, I'm just the chronic wet blanket in the group anyway so, we stood around before the race, bitching and complaining and knowing that none of us SHOULD run, but when the gun went off, guess where we were? Right there, off and... running. To top it all off, Coco beat us all and finished with a great time, but the point here is that we did finish and it was brutal. The course was lame and we were all hurting and none of us wanted to be there, but we said we were going to run it and so we did. Consequences abound, but that's exactly my point; say you're going to do it and then beat the shit out of that rug until all the dust and dirt are pummeled right out, until there is no blood, sweat or tears left to share or to complain about, even if you might imagine that there are.

There are so many things that I don't attempt to do because I know that I won't do well at them and it's not the lack of success that keeps me from it, it's the downright knowledge that I have limitations so I would rather focus on the things that I can do and that mean something to me. And those are the things that I will put to bed, smiling as my own face hits the pillow at night. I really would like to change the world; to leave an indelible print that people could follow. To ultimately know that my life meant something more than packing lunches and cleaning up vomit, important in their own right, but not so much in the way of making a difference in people's lives. (insert sigh here) So, deep down, in my heart, maybe even in my soul, I know what I need to do; I just need to find the strength and the will and the time to do it and then I need to do it well. It really is that simple or...maybe it isn't.

Ironman...

Sometimes when I am in the "hot box" otherwise known as the Bikram yoga studio; as in, tonight at the 5:00 class and I am on the border of hallicinating or crying or vomiting because the room is just too damn hot, I start to think to myself, "I've had three children, I've run a marathon, I've been married for 17 years, so shut the hell up, stop whining and do this thing!" But tonight I had to leave the room twice because it was too hot and I wasn't the only one, but the thing is, I'm learning or maybe re-learing my limits and I'm accepting them, um, okay, acknowledging them? I might be just a tad bit away from acceptance just yet.

I called my cousin Shannon. I mean I facebooked her; same as calling these days and I told her that we should train to do the Ironman triathlon. I didn't give any dates or numbers or a plan even, I just decided, what the hell, why not? She sent me back a message saying that she'd love to (gotta be in the genes I'm thinking although Rosh is not related to me and she's as balls out crazy as I am), but that 2012 might be a better time because of her schedule and her two little girls. My kids are getting bigger, but she is still working full time and is a full time mom so we agreed that we'd talk it over and take some time to train and then, we'd just do it. So I'm putting it down on paper. It might not happen in 2012, but in this, the decade of my forties, I will attempt to complete an Ironman triathlon. Now I say attempt because I know that I have the fortitude and the stamina to train for one and I also know that life puts up so many unexpected roadblocks that I have to be prepared for anything. And, since there are numerous other physical challenges that I want to take on, I must consider these as well. I suppose that I should fit some parenting in there too somewhere. My point, and I do have one is that once I say I'm going to do it, then I'm going to do it. And that's all she wrote...

Well, not all. So here I sit in the dark on a Saturday night so tired that I can barely see straight, listening to the labored breathing of the four year old with whom I bunk these days because he is "fraid of duh dawk Mom" and I contemplate the mass amount of hours and the grueling training that this endeavor will involve and I smile just thinking about it because like any other goal that requires diligence and hard work; just the thought of competing makes my fingertips tingle and my eyes light up and the endorphins begin to go... I hadn't thought about it in a while because I had been so out of shape for so many years, using the "I had babies" slogan, which I would never say is an excuse because, let's face it, pregnancy changes your body. Even those superwomen who fit back into their skinny jeans upon leaving the hospital will attest to the fact that parts of their bodies will never be the same again, no matter how many squats or leg lifts they do. And because I had forgotten how good it felt to be in shape, I also forgot how those feelings spill over into other areas of your life, making you want to continue the process over and over. Rinse and repeat if you will. I don't have to be a size 2, hell, I don't think I ever was a size 2, at least not since I was a child, but that's beside the point; the point is that I missed that strenuous physical activity that I had engaged in as an athlete prior to having had my children. Sure my body and mind were younger and more capable of recovery, but now, it is remembering a lot of what it had forgotten and it wants it back with a vengeance. One of my brothers asked me the other night if I wasn't getting a little OCD with the exercise. Of course not, I just reminded him of that very idea; that feeling of feeling athletic and how I missed it. He nodded, he knew what I was talking about. Besides, I just ate a pint of Haagen Dazs and I have to counterbalance my fat and caloric intake. Run to eat not eat to run... in this case, exercise.

I'm one of those people who has to constantly look forward, to the next thing and I have to set a new goal. Whatever that goal is, small, big, personal, saving humanity, you know, the usual. I mean, I ran the New York marathon this past year. The New York marathon, yes, it's a big deal, but I'm already thinking, When can I do it again and how can I improve my time and which charity can I run for next time? For me, life is too valuable to waste and although I do waste too much on trivial, nonsensical things; working my body and mind are not two of them. It keeps me in check and reminds me that if I can control this one aspect of my life that I can then be better for my family and my job and my world. And at the very least, I'm not nearly as angry as I usually am...

I hope to live long enough to see my children finish school, get married and maybe even have children of their own. And I'd like to think that I could do all of these things from a place of good health and peace; a place where my children don't have to argue over who has to take care of mom. Jake will just stick me in a home, of that I am quite positive while Nick might let me come and live with him; the jury is still out on Ty and I'm guessing that after the kids are grown that Tim will just up and boot me out; I'm living on borrowed time as it is. Maybe if I can nail down a full time job... hmmm, nah, might interfere with my yoga time.

So, the ironman, impossible you think? Have you been listening to anything that I've said this past year? Do you not know me at all? Wait for it... 2012 is right around the corner...

Entertainment value...

I find it both amusing and interesting that people are reading my thoughts and that they are now commenting on them. Amusing because I don't know many of those people and interesting because I do know many of them. I received a message from someone in Russia, RUSSIA for crying out loud who just wanted to let me know that she thought that I was "funny" and that she likes to read about my kids and my life. Global communication has taken on a whole new meaning for a mom who blogs...

I was thinking about the lottery today, well, about what it would have been like to win that huge jackpot and I let myself imagine the possibilities if I won that kind of money. After about 10 minutes I had to stop because my heart was racing and my palms were sweating and since I don't even buy lottery tickets, I guess the whole exercise is futile. But sometimes it's fun to think about all of the nonsensical and entertaining things that could be done with a ridiculous amount of money. We went to see a movie last week, the 5 of us and, you do the math, but after, we agreed that an outing like that was going to have to be reserved for special occasions only. Seriously, almost a hundred bucks? It makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it. And I love going to the movies, but it has now moved into the realm of "once in awhile" treats, like Dodger games and Kings games and the theater. I love plays by the way and I love the LA Phil and I love to go to productions and sporting events and I would definitely use some of my new found fortune to do some of those activities. Even running events are costing more. $108 for a 1/2 marathon? I might have to just go down to the beach and run my own, well, me and Rosh. Forget the medals and the shirts and the 2,999 other people. I'm going to have to go rogue on this one. So, this notion makes me think about what else "entertains" me these days versus what used to and, sadly, how much it cost.

Museums... fantastic. The Getty, free admission right? Yep, but oh, um, $15 to park? What the fuck is that? Better carpool on that one. And Disneyland... forget it, definitely not the happiest place on earth unless you are a kid and you aren't paying for anything. And concerts, I love concerts, but talk about forking over half a paycheck. And going out to dinner, okay I'm just going to stop now. Depressing. I thought back to the stuff that we used to do as teenagers, when we were dating, when we had very little money and surprisingly, I smiled as I began to remember.

We used to go dancing and although there was a cover charge and sometimes a drink charge, you could stay at a club for hours on end so the charges were appropriate for how much time we got to spend at a place. We spent days, weeks, months down at the beach, skating, reading, drinking (again, not as costly during the afternoons); I remember getting so drunk one time that I rode my bike right off the strand and onto the sand. I don't quite remember how I made it back... We went to high school sporting events and parties that only required a keg and however much liquor people could borrow, buy or steal I guess. We took ice blocks up to the golf course in PV and rode down the hills. We hopped the fence at the drive in and sat between the cars and illegally watched free movies; sometimes, when we were younger, we'd take eggs and throw them at the screen so that they dripped down and left these huge marks and then we'd crack up when the movie came on and the screen was laden with yolk marks. When we were teenagers we'd throw people in the trunks and in the backseats of cars and we'd sneak in to the drivein. We'd sit out on people's lawns on warm days and listen to music, talking, sometimes drinking(notice a theme here?) We'd bike ride everywhere and we'd play strip poker which is always good clean fun and most of the time, free. We'd grab tennis rackets and head to the high schools, playing for hours and sometimes we'd bowl, in the afternoon. Maybe it's a question of tastes changing; now we like to do things that require more money and, ultimately, coupons... but it's nice to do things that are reminiscent of those times when 5 bucks could buy you a a whole day's worth of fun...

Girls night out is a fun activity that sometimes costs a lot, but that one is very worth it, just for the laughter alone. Playing indoor soccer can be costly, but also an activity that releases those precious endorphins and, a whole lot of anger and frustration at the same time. Gardening and watering in the yard while wearing a huge hat is also an activity that doesn't demand much nor does pulling weeds or shooting hoops or feeding the ducks at Wilderness park. Making brownies, coloring, reading or painting my toenails are activities that entertain me at a discount price.

I guess it's because we need more stimulation as we get older or grow up, yes, I set myself up for that one so go ahead and laugh or think what you will for a second, okay, done? But, if I'm going to be entertained to the point where I forget about the annoyances and frustrations of my everyday existence like the fact that I'm home with two sick kids today (help me) then it better be something that I'm looking forward to doing and that can keep my attention for longer than the two seconds that the four year old allows me to be out of his sight line. Is it bad to say that I look forward to the days when Ty goes to preschool... hell no it isn't. It makes me, probably for the first time, completely normal. I love to play Scrabble and do crossword puzzles, I like to play cards (for money) and I love to sit in Ty's little pool on hot days. OH and water balloons, I love to fill up and throw water balloon, yes, at my children...

So, any ideas on how to entertain me? I'm open for suggestions. All I can say is that, please make it semi cheap and please let it be something that doesn't involve a complicated set of rules or some prerequisite of which I have no knowledge, like beer pong. And, if it involves alcohol and music, hey, all the better. Or being naked? Hmmm... just wanted to see if you were still paying attention. Hi Russia girl!

Nick turns 11...

Today is my middle son, Nick Thomas's eleventh birthday and the poor kid has not been feeling well all day. He was coughing and he even vomited a couple of times; not too badly, but enough so that he just felt down and well, sick. He wanted to go to dinner with the family and he said earlier, when he was sitting in the bathtub, "I know I don't feel good, but I really want to go to dinner and spend my birthday with the people I love." How damn cute is that? So, we went and it was fun, but he came home feeling really sick and now he's asleep.

I guess I should write about Nick since it's his birthday, but Nick is kind of my private child meaning that his life and his situation are more for our family than for all of you who read this drivel as I write it. I could go on with anecdotes about Jake and Ty FOREVER, but Nick, he's the one that I hold very close to my heart so to speak and he is the one who I will worry about long after he's left home. Jake and Ty will be fine; they may not go to college or get the job of their dreams, but they'll survive because they are both gregarious and they reach out to people as if people were their means of life support. They like to be around a lot of people, they like to be the center of attention and they both tend to thrive in a chaotic environment. Whereas Nick is much more like Tim; solid, pensive, introverted, maybe even sensitive. Nick is sensitive but the jury is still out on Tim...

One of the things that I've really hated seeing over the years, particularly with raising boys is this dick swinging attitude that is perpetuated by a large population of the male species. Of course I'm generalizing and I've touched on this before when mentioning coaches, but I never claimed to be politically correct nor have I ever counterargued my own ineptitude(s) and faults. Besides, if I've said it once, I've said it five thousand times, these are my thoughts so (insert expletive of your choice here) if you don't like it. The thing about the "dick swingers" and for those of you who do not know to what I refer, it's basically that quasi-cultural bias that reeks of a time when men were men and women, well, they weren't the same as men. But this isn't about women; it's about that slap on the back, play football, fuck the cheerleader, beat the shit out of the freshman or homosexual or the weak guy; the guy who is different from the others; different in a way that is palpable, noticeable, real, type of guys. The boys who didn't play sports, who didn't date the "popular" girls, who chose hobbies and activities that suited them and not necessarily the prototype "mold" that is often ingrained in boys from the time that they are small. "Want to be a real man son? You've got to kick the shit out that kid." Yeah okay tough guy and who's going to homeschool him when he gets expelled for bullying or fighting? See, boys who are quieter, loners, who choose to be outside of the mainstream, they do have a tougher go of it. I've seen it, I see it all the time. I taught high school and middle school and as the years go by, it doesn't change, it just takes a slightly different shape.

Nick told me that he didn't want to play baseball this season and I didn't ask him why. I just asked him if he was sure and he said, "Yeah Mom." And that was it. I think that this was the last season for soccer too. I have no problem with it and I loved that he said that next year, when he goes to middle school that he'd like to be in the Chorus or maybe the Band. And he'd like to learn to speak Spanish and maybe take Hip Hop lessons. All of this from a boy who says very little, who spends a great deal of time alone, who reads like books are crack and he's addicted, who loves video games and has become so adept at playing that he has to explain the simplest moves to his out of practice parents. Nick is a bright, sweet, loving boy who is trying to forge a place in a world that begs him to turn to athletes and movie stars and Ninja Warriors to use as his role models. When really, for a kid like him, he needs to be turning to Gustavo Dudamel or Ray Bradbury or Eric Clapton or Steve Jobs or someone who could turn to him and say, you know what Nick, the measure of a man is not the size of his triceps or how many chicks he banged in high school; the measure of a man is the confidence and the pride that he carries and that defines him throughout his life. Those are the kinds of role models that my son needs and that we continue to point out or try to have him turn to when he needs some "guidance."

The thing is, I look at Nick and I see a boy who does things his own way, in his own time and although society works the other way around with us trying to "fit in;" I don't see that for Nick. He will try and he will figure out what works for him, but he will also find it in a way that suits him, not everyone else. I just hope that it is a path not inundated with narrow minded simpletons who are too immature or naive enough to accept and to validate the true differences in people. Who am I kidding? Would it be too much to do covert ops when he goes to high school? I just don't want him to feel like he has to be any certain way or do any certain thing; that he should be happy with who he is. One of the things that I've told Jake over the years, well, the past couple of years and I tell Nick too, but he tends to roll his eyes at me is that if someone doesn't like you, then it's fine. For every person that doesn't like you, there are dozens who do or will as you grow up. It's harder for them to see as kids because they and we all want to be accepted and loved and they want to fit in. And being a teenager is hell on earth for many kids; surviving those years is their own personal war and sometimes it is a a miracle if they get out alive. Just watch the news, sadly... I also tell them that it is not important what other people think about them unless they value that person and his/her opinion. I told a friend once that I don't care what other people think about me and that is completely true. I really couldn't care less, but here's the thing; I do care, very deeply what the people I love think and that is why it does hurt sometimes and it is painful when they hold a mirror up to my behavior and they say, "Take a good look Yvette, it's not what you think." Then it is often time to re-evaluate. I can't live my life worrying that people might not like me or that they are talking about me behind my back. At this point, I'd be worried if they weren't. So, I am teaching my boys to ride their own waves, even if they have to splash about and tumble and wait to produce them on their own.

I found out that I was pregnant with Nick on my 30th birthday. We went and saw a play at the Geffen that night, and all through dinner, all I could think about was "a baby, another baby." 9 months to the day, on the actual holiday, Martin Luther King Jr. Day, Nick entered the world, all 9 pounds, 5 ounces of him. Black hair, perfect, little fingers, such a good sleeper and eater, quiet, never a behavior problem... I have many dreams for you my middle child, but the biggest one is that you find the self confidence that will carry you through your days and which will help serve as a shield to fend off the doubts and the worries and the pain that will certainly accompany you during those days.

I hope your eleventh year is filled with wonder and love and a limitless amount of moments that make you smile. Happy Birthday Nicky. I love you...

Rediscovering someone lost...

I hadn't seen her in almost ten years, since right before I had Nick. Maybe six months or so before and although I've thought about her over the years, sometimes daily and other times, only when situations or things would come up that reminded me of her would I stop and sigh and wish that she were there. She was such a huge part of who I was throughout my childhood and my adolescence and even up until my thirties when I got pregnant with my second child and yet, it was so subtle how she just kind of slipped into the background, behind the sleepless nights, the playdates, the endless piles of laundry and dishes to be done, the long days of putting other people's needs first. Days turned into weeks turned into a decade of wishing that she'd come back, but not creating the environment for her to do so...

I lost one of the best parts of myself when I had my children. And although I realize that it sounds crass and unfeeling to phrase it that way, it's the truth and the truth, even though it can be excruciatingly painful, it is not something from which to hide. I thought that after I had Jake and then two years later when I had Nick that I had to abandon myself to being their mother and, I wanted to. I wanted to do all of the things that moms do with their toddlers and babies and I didn't want to miss a second of it. So, I didn't. I stopped teaching full time, I resigned my tenure and I became a stay at home mom and the end of this school year will mark a decade that I've been home. I add this because Nick, that sweet cherub will turn 11 years old on Monday and the arrival of another birthday, well, it makes me feel...

See I don't consider myself a stay home mom. I have many good friends who do that job with relish and gusto and they are fantastic at it. I'm not. I spend most of my days milling around wishing that I had something more entertaining to do than play cars on the floor or kick the soccer ball for the thousandth time. Again, the truth is that I did not want someone else to raise my children so that I could keep my career and, we were in a financial situation where I didn't have to choose. But at the same time, I've held on to the notion that I could do both, that I could continue to work part time and manage the boys' lives and mine and Tim's and the house and the schedules and, you know, I try, but I'm still not very good at it and something always seems to suffer. There is no real balance in our lives and the only real thing that I contribute to the chaos is more chaos, that and whole lot of screaming. If Tim had agreed to stay at home, even though I would have been saddened to miss some things, I would have done better to go off to work full time and let him manage the homefront because if there is one thing that I am not, it is domestic.

The realization that I'm not came long ago when we were honeymooners. I was making a dish out of a new cookbook that I had received as a wedding present and we were all settled in our new apartment. I set the table, dressed up, cooked dinner and when Tim came home, we sat down to eat the course I'd created. Very Norman Rockwell. Nope, not even close; to this day, all you have to do is say Halibut casserole to Tim and he will either wince or burst out laughing or both and that was oh, um, 16 years ago or so. Horrible. But not being domestic is something that is inherent in my nature, in my system. I want to do and be and thrive and earn the money and dig the ditches and shoot the shit with the guys and, and, and... but I also want to be there when they get home from school and when they are sick and when they need me to kiss boo-boos although only Ty lets me do that now and not for much longer. I long for more time with each of them and yet I want my own time too; I desperately want the Yvette back that existed before she became Jake's mom and these past two years have begun to release a little bit of her back to me.

I realize that there is no "solution" to any of this. That basically, if I'm fat then it's because I've eaten too much. And, if I'm tired then it's because I don't sleep enough. But what if it is more than that, what if it is "If I'm not happy" or "I'm no longer myself?" Is there a quick fix for that? Is there a longer fix? Aside from drinking more alcohol or doing drugs or having an affair or getting plastic surgery, is there a fix for, "Where did she go and how do I get her back?"
What did I love most about who I was before someone else came along and loved me?

So today, as I watched Jake play soccer and as we drove home, I thought about that. I thought about the notion of who I was versus who I am and I thought about myself in the the third person as if she were this thing that I could reel in on a fishing line or something; as if she were just waiting for me to collect her back. Why was I waiting for the boys' lives to begin before I could take back mine? I don't know really, I guess that's how I thought that's how it's supposed to be. You give of yourself until there is nothing left and then you make way for them and, eventually, they'll do the same for their children... the natural order of things.
Well, you know what? The natural order of things can go fuck itself because I don't know a single woman or man for that matter who has a child who doesn't, even for one second, crave a taste of who they were before their kids came along. Not trading any of it, not changing it, just thinking it. There are so many fantastic people out there who find themselves bogged down in the most ridiculous and time consuming nonsense that exists. It's futile to fight against it because it continues whether you want it to or not, but it's also sad not to fight against it because what you once loved about yourself has not only manifested itself in your children, but by demonstrating it, it gives them a sense of who you were without starting the story, "Remember when we used to..." or "When I was young..." I let myself become that, I did that, for almost ten years and then one day, I told myself, that's enough; enough self pity, enough crying, enough of what won't ever happen... Instead, I decided to focus on what could happen and you know what I found? It's not rocket science; it's a simple case of asking yourself, "What did I love about who I was?" And I don't believe it for a second if you think you can answer, "Nothing." That's just moronic. And yes, that's moron with an ic attached...

I always loved music and I loved to dance so now, I put on the music and I dance, around the house, in the bathroom, when I put my makeup on; I dance with the boys, without them, in my underwear because it makes me feel good. I always loved baths and now, I sit, sometimes for hours after the kids go to bed, reading, listening to music, refilling the tub until I get so sleepy that my eyes start to droop. I always loved to exercise, to play sports, to be active and this simple thing has re-entered my life with a vengeance. I'm running and swimming and doing yoga, I'm laughing more, bike riding, playing on the floor. Hell, I'd be tree climbing too but I think I need a little more time on my balance. But what I've rediscovered about who Yvette was is also the exact same thing that I know about her today and that's that she has a will of steel and if she tries, she can do it and, if she doesn't, that she'll get back up and try again. She likes to push herself and punish herself and she feels the most deeply about things when she is in the moment with whoever that is locked into whatever they are doing. She thrives on intensity and emotion and she tries very hard to stay with whatever moves her at that moment...

I suppose it all really boils down to a simple idea that, at any time, you can find that thing that makes you whole again or, if you can't, then maybe you can, at the very least, acknowledge it and find a new thread that exists in who you are now. Maybe you didn't like who you were then and you do now. I can accept that; I don't know that I completely agree with that notion because it counter argues my point, but hey, I'm writing this to consider how I feel about it and well, there you are. Childhood is simple because children are simple minded. Adolescence is difficult because adolescents are... a pain in the ass. You thought I was going to say difficult didn't you? And aging, maturing, evolving... cracking, drying out, wrinkling up is painful because well, it is painful. But, for me, for my sons, I'd like to paint a picture, maybe just for them, of a woman who is satisfied with a part of herself that she's always had, a piece of their mother who they can carry with them all of their lives; especially when they hate her and they will. I want them to remember me trying to live with passion and I want them to see that even when it seems, someday like they've lost a piece of who they once were that they have every opportunity to get him back, slowly, a piece at a time so that they too can pass along what they love most about themselves. Posterity, Legacy, Immortality maybe? Whatever it is, I know that I've found a piece of it, of her again and all I can say to her is, "Where the hell have you been?"

Driving Lessons...

Mother fucker, son of a bitch, dammit, someone needs to teach that asshole how to drive! This is the thought that runs through my mind several times a day as I chauffeur various children to a variety of places and as I run the "errands" that make up a homemaker's life: Costco, Target, Bank, Albertson's, Park, Post Office, Doctor's Office, 3 different schools, yes 3, soccer practice, soccer game, friend's houses; mine and theirs, McDonald's, library, swimming, the gym, church, out to dinner, Toys R Us to buy yet ANOTHER birthday present, farmer's market, work, home, grandparents' houses... I had to stop to take a breath there. As any stay at home parent knows, being a taxi driver is one of the many job descriptions on the resume that makes up our days. Errands and jobs aside, as one who lives in California, if you are one, you also know what a fucked up street and freeway system we have in the lovely Golden State and, discrimination aside, if one more teenager or person of "senior" status does something stupid in their car, I'm going to go ballistic...

I was driving to pick up Nick from his appointment and I had 15 minutes to go, oh, about 2 miles. 2 fucking miles at 4:00 in the afternoon... and I was late. Fuck! I was late, thanks to, you guessed it, grandma Everhart over on my right who completely disregarded the turn lane and drifted right in front of me, ignoring the fact that I was even there in the first place. Now, driving over the speed limit might be dangerous, but driving a good 15 miles under it and then drifting like you are in the geriatric Fast and the Furious CANNOT be good for the road either. And if you think I'm being an ageist, well let me just say, earlier in the day I was cut off by some kid who had his hat pulled down so low that even I couldn't see where he was going. He cut me off and then he STOPPED right in the middle of a four way intersection like he couldn't make up his mind which way he wanted to go! Completely disregarding the fact that I was right behind him. So, I honked my horn and I didn't lay on it or anything although I wanted to, but I had two kids in the car with me. I gave the horn a little tap just in case he didn't realize that I was sitting there waiting and he leans out the window and flips me off... now, there are a few choice things that I could say here or that I could have done, but, as I mentioned, my children were in the car and while I had to hear, "Hey Mom, did that guy just flip you off?" I also reminded myself that this was an opportunity to teach them a lesson on patience, "Yes" I muttered and turned left, but I also mumbled a few words under my breath, seething as we continued, only to hear the 4 year old say, quite clearly, "Mommy, don't say fuck!" Hmmm, that mother of the year award is drifting even more out of my eyeline and it's only January.

I try to discriminate indiscriminately, but it's tough sometimes when one particular group seems to clamp down on a given event or day in my life or in just the maelstrom of my existence. I wonder though, when it comes to things like driving and responsibility and mere reaction time, when do we begin to infringe on a person's personal freedoms if, let's say, one day, they run over your cat in broad daylight right in front of you, we take their license away and just tell them, "Sorry man, you're just too old now." Really, age discrimination? You know what I'm going to say, Hell no it's not. I say mandatory driving tests for EVERYONE over 65 and I say that because I plan on having slower reaction time by then, if I'm still alive and I will gladly go for another test. AND, on top of that, these tests should be annual and they should be mandatory. I turn 40 and I have to get my breasts checked once a year, why the fuck aren't people tested for their prowess behind the wheel of a machine that could kill people, including themselves, small children and pets? Seriously, I cannot be the only person who thinks this. My neighbor, who I don't know all that well, really not at all who lives down the block; when I see him get in the car, I make sure that all living creatures are locked safely inside of the house. He does this thing where he pulls out into the middle of the street and he sits there in his car, he sits there in the middle of the street, car idling for 3 or 4 minutes or until someone comes along behind him and then he proceeds to drive about as fast as the 4 year old on his bike with training wheels, completely disregarding the stop sign that is at the end of the block... I tell you that it is a complete miracle that he hasn't hurt someone or himself by now.

And, clearly, it's not just old people or teenagers, it's all of us. I am a dangerous driver because I drive too fast or so I'm told. My boys don't seem to mind as they are boys and they like speed... my standard quote is "I'm an offensive driver not a defensive driver" and Jake backs me up with "The best defense is a good offense Mom." I think that's a football thing, but I'll take it here. I drive my Chevy Tahoe like it's a Fastback '65 Mustang, but, you know, I think I'd still rather be at the cause end than at the receiving end. I've only been in minor fender benders and strangely they've all occurred in parking lots? Something about backing up? Whatever. And speeding tickets? Only 2 in all of my 41 years; not bad for someone who completely disregards speed limit signs. They are just a guideline, at least that is what I keep telling myself. We drive to Lake Tahoe every year and I take the stretch to Sacramento, the straightaway and it often freaks Tim out because I get tired of people cutting me off, switching lanes and zipping around so I will go head to head with them; a game of chicken? It's on. I played with this little Honda Civic for about 30 miles coming home this summer and he was laughing at me, I saw him as I wove my monster SUV around his little speedster, but I'd be damned if I'd let him pass me. Yes, I jeopardized my whole family's safety, but it was a mere matter of pride you see. And pride goeth before the fall or is it cometh before the fall? Whatever, pride somethingith before Yvette rams her 2 ton vehicle right over the little silver pain in the ass hot rod... I also like to crank the tunes really loud when I drive. Now the 4 year old goes "Turn it up Mom" even when the whole car is vibrating. He can even fall asleep as the windows shake, man I have awesome kids...

I never thought that Road Rage was a real thing until I get on the 405, not until I GOT on it, but every single time I get on it. That freeway is a compilation of every bad and evil thing about the human race in all of its history. That freeway is Dante's Inferno or at least one of the rings. It doesn't mattter what time of the day, where you are, when you are, who you are with, how far you are going, that fucking strip of highway will crush you like that guy's head in Goodfellas when DeNiro and Pesci put it in the vice and flatten his brains into spaghetti, ugh, gross, but similar in how I feel here. I realize that it's a population thing, I realize that the freeway takes so many people to such a wide variety of destinations that it's going to be crowded. But here's the thing, I don't give a shit. I don't want to wait, I don't want to get stuck and I most certainly do not want to have to deal with a whole lot of other pissed off homemaker's like me who are in a race against time to get their kid home from the airport before they fall asleep in the car and fuck up the nap schedule...

I think we forget that driving is a privilege and many of us, myself included, treat it like it's just some thing that is there, that we do, like answering the phone, eating a meal, talking to someone, but if you are one of those people who disregard others in their quest to maintain 28 miles per hour or because you forgot your glasses and you can't see where to put the car into gear, then frankly you need to wake the fuck up because I'm tired of having to deal with your perpetual shitty driving and it's aggravating me to the point where I'm going to go Kathy Bates in Fried Green Tomatoes and just start ramming your fucking car into oblivion. Either that or I'm going to make some very serious hand gestures in your direction, kids or no kids in the car. If you cannot properly operate a motorized vehicle, then... walk or flag me down, I'll give you a ride. I guarantee, you'll get there faster than you would otherwise...

And, most likely, Tim will be teaching the boys to drive so go ahead, breathe a sigh of relief and the next time you see me on the road, you've been warned, either steer clear or try to keep up, but either way, don't mess with me; it's in your own best interest...

Great Expectations...

I went to breakfast by myself this morning and I enjoyed the silence, reading my book and drinking WAY too much coffee when a teenage boy and his girl"friend" sat down next to me. If you've ever eaten at The Pancake House, you know that the tables for "two" are so close together that it's tough not to be thisclose to the person next to you. And, I'd like to say that I wasn't listening to their conversation, but who are we kidding here? Not only was I listening, I was making mental notes for when my sons are that age and reminding myself to be thankful that I am no longer a teenager. When the girl said to the boy, "What am I going to do with you?" I'm thinking to myself, Here we go, some smart ass sexual remark when the kid laughs and tells her,"You know, it's a good thing you're my best friend because I could have made some really nasty remarks to that comment" and the stupid girl goes, "Huh, what are you talking about?" and the boy goes, "What you just said, you left yourself open for a comment there" and she says,"I don't get it, what did I say?" I almost spit out my pancakes. Fucking dumbshit teenager... sorry, my apologies to all the "legit" teens out there. Then the boy proceeds to EXPLAIN what he meant and then to begin to tell her how often teenage boys think about sex... Check please! Seriously? Over breakfast? Was that girl pretending or was she really that naive or just plain ignorant? Whatever it was, I almost tossed my cookies, well, my pancakes. And people wonder why I don't want to go back to teaching high school. Believe me, it's as much for their sake as it is for mine. And while I might sound just a tad judgemental, it's because DUH, I am, at least when it comes to highly immature, game playing, dingbats who set themselves up to be judged. I feel sorry for the girls that my boys will bring home and even though I claim that I will try to like them; they are going to have to jump through fucking hoops of fire before they will gain any semblance of my approval... okay, maybe not of fire, we'll see how happy they make my sons.

So, I went to therapy today (you're going, Thank God because she was going off on a tangent there, but you're still reading aren't you?); I hadn't been in awhile as most of you can probably tell from the more frequent blogging and the topics which cover more things that "piss me off" lately, but, I felt that I needed to vent and to discuss some issues with my doctor, who incidentally, freaking rocks. That was thrown in for those of you who speak that kind of nonsense, but she really does rock; she has this demeanor that put me at ease in the first minute that I went to see her, way back in April of last year and I like how she looks at me, waiting for me to figure it out instead of just telling me the answer. Love that. No judgement and she WAITS for me to figure it out. Damn she's good. Anyway, I go for an hour which isn't long enough. I could literally lay there on that couch all day and spew the kind of nonsense that would probably lead to her eventual suicide, but seeing how she is a therapist, she'd probably counsel herself away from that possible outcome. An hour is long enough to "get a buzz" but not long enough to "get drunk" and maybe do something that you'll regret, but, I guess that also goes with the territory; we need other things to discuss at a later date which she booked for, as in next week. The thing about therapy is that it is kind of bullshit time that you pay for with a stranger who doesn't really know you and doesn't get too personal. I mean, they ask you personal questions and they listen, but they're not going to be on your Christmas Card list if you know what I mean. They are not a "friend" so to speak. And, that's a good thing because friends judge; all of us, more often than not, more often than we will admit, we judge; ourselves,each other and even total strangers. Case in point; today at Knott's Berry Farm.

The maniac and I went on a little excursion to good old Camp Snoopy, myself knowing that it would not be crowded the week back after vacation and it wasn't. So, we're running from ride to ride, he's screaming, the ride operators are letting us go 2,3,5 times in a row on each ride. Man, that roller coaster almost put me in traction, but Ty liked it so we kept riding it. Nonetheless, when there aren't that many people in a small space, you tend to keep seeing them, in lines, on rides and what not. Well, there was a couple and their children who kept popping up on nearly every ride that we were on which was fine; I wouldn't have thought anything of it, but here's the dilemma. This couple, every time they stood waiting for their turn would play grabass and I'm not talking just arms around each other, hugging, holding hands; I'm talking hands on one an other's asses, hips, tongue action, the whole nine yards. Now, as you well know, if you've been reading closely, I love sex, but I am not a "let's get it on in public" type of girl, well, woman and I most certainly do not condone any couple, regardless of age, marital status, whatever to be making out in front of my kid and me for that matter while we wait for the Hot Air Balloon Ride at a Kid's amusement park. There is nothing even remotely amusing about that! They had two kids, girls who seemed pretty oblivious to the whole situation; they looked about 5 and 3 and Ty noticed nothing so I guess I'm arguing against my own point here, but since I'm no prude, I really thought this was in poor taste, rivaling the teens at the pancake house talking indiscriminately about sex along with some very clear innuendo that just didn't make for breakfast fare, at least not mine. I don't want my pancakes with a side of "blowjob" nor do I want my afternoon with my kid punctuated with a helping of "Come here and let me dry hump you in public." And, did I mention, although this is irrelevant, but it makes me wonder what my husband would have said or done or not done if he were there instead of me, but the couple was two women. So the grabbing and fondling had a different effect on the people around us; I mean, guys were staring and these were guys with other women on their arms. What the fuck is it with men and two women? I mean, I know what it is; I get it, but that adolescent fantasy has to either give way or somebody needs to take a trip to the Bunny Ranch and get it out of his system once and for all. I have no problem with them being women, I just have a problem with them having clothed sex at Camp Snoopy; just thought I'd throw that in for fun...

I don't know if you can sense this or, if you know me, you probably have come to this conclusion already or maybe not; I'm wavering here, but I am very hard on myself. I'm not so hard on other people, but I do have high expectations of humans in general and of parents and of people who claim to want to make things better and then who go and fork over a fortune in Botox and other unnecessary expenditures that don't do anything other than help the economy I guess. And I know that some of you who read this get Botox and I know I've spoken to you about it, doesn't mean I agree and it doesn't mean that just because I have laugh lines that I can't stand that you and I are going to be sitting in the doctor's office together... I am most certainly not judging you, I am just simply saying, or asking, Where does it end? Where is the line between necessary and ridiculous? And If I have to ask, does that mean that I have no clue either? So my expectations concern what I have to do to make my own case, to set my own goals and to try not to expect other people to live up to some standard that I cannot live up to myself. How hypocritical is that? I drive an SUV, I live in a nice house, I go on vacations, my children want for very little. I am not a deprived person in the slightest sense so what gives me the right to have expectations of anyone? To say anything in the first place? I don't know; maybe I'll ask my therapist that next week when I see her. Or maybe, I will just continue to make note of the things and people and places who and where I see examples of absurdity and then I will write my disgust and dismay here for your judgement...

Why do I even care at all? I guess the answer lies in what motivates me as a human being to be better, to try, to keep moving forward. When that stops happening, so will my dialogue, or in this case, my monologue. "The end is nigh dear friends..." Nah, just fucking with you...

Please just stop...

Since when is it not okay to be bored; to sit quietly and to silently watch the second hand on a clock, sighing in despair, wishing that you had something, anything to do besides just sit there? Why do people have an incessant, insatiable need to be DOING something constantly; talking, moving, eating and, most importantly, for my dissection here: phone manipulation. See, at first I thought that it was just talking on the phone, chattering away with friends, acquaintances, business associates, family, whatever; I get it, you have to check up on people and accounts and appointments. Fine, I have three children and I check up on them as well. But what flabbergasts me, what confounds me, what drives me to want to hurl a foreign object at someone's head is this compulsion that people have with texting and, even more than that, of putting their heads down to check their email, facebook, my space (does that even exist anymore?), to play games, to send jokes, to download videos, to get xrays, I don't know. I'm seeing an entire culture of people, a race of what used to be human beings with their posture hunched forward, their eyes glossed over and their hands in a text death grip. It makes me sick. I guess I could understand if it were important which I know sometimes it is, but there is no way, no fucking way that the cell phone zombies out there have anything of even the slightest interest or intelligence to say and if they do, they'd be doing something more productive than typing in "lol, omg, rotflmao, j/k, c u byotch." For you skeptics out there or for those of you who have just grabbed your Blackberry to type in, That bitch has gone off her rocker again, listen to this, let me make my case here and if you don't agree, like I've told you, I don't care, don't read on and take your cell phone and shove it up your ass.

I went to the movies last week, by myself and no, I'm not a complete loser; yes, I have loser like qualities, but I actually enjoy sitting quietly in a dark theatre in an adult movie, not having to make small talk or pander to some child's relentless need for attention or snacks. So, I'm sitting, eating my popcorn, smiling at the screen when all of a sudden, "Whiiiiizizz" this freaky sound and the screen goes dark. Clearly a problem, so we sit for about 30 seconds and nothing, another minute and nothing and then, the phones begin to light up. I notice two or three and then ten and then the whole theatre is lit up within 60 seconds, people texting furiously, beginning to talk to their significant others about the dilemma of the movie not coming back on. I'm considering laughing at first until I see that this is becoming a real problem in and of itself. Less than a minute or two later and one of the AMC employees comes in and announces that there is a tear or what not in the film and they are going to get it fixed as soon as possible and if anyone would like a refund that they are welcome to go to the front and if not, they are welcome to stay and wait. Hell, I don't have anywhere to be so I just sit and watch the melodrama as it begins to unfold. Now people are talking rather loudly on their phones and kids are playing games and the texting is so rampant that I can hear fingernails clicking on keyboards. I just sit and the longer I sit, the more amused and annoyed I become at the thought that people cannot just sit still anymore; that there is a need, not a desire, but an actual need to be entertained constantly. Why is silence oppressive? Why can't people relish in the quiet? Why are we plagued with an inundation of technology whether we want it or not? I don't oppose technology, but I do oppose a dependency on it, for anyone.

My husband bought me a Nook last year for my birthday which was a very thoughtful gift considering the amount of reading that I do and the convenience was wonderful I thought. Want a book? Download it and read it instantly. But I was fundamentally opposed to the idea of reading off of a screen. I didn't like it at all and I hate having to scroll to get to the end of a page, but most of all I hated not having the book in my hands, the pages themselves and the opportunity to savor the idea that in awhile that my hands and eyes would become part of the product that I held in my hands. I just didn't feel that way with the computer screen that ensconced my lap. So I returned it and bought the real thing instead. If I ever win any money, I will build a library and rest assured, it will not be digital...

The art of conversation and of imagination is being squandered, brushed aside and many might argue that the development of technology encourages imagination and is built by imagination. Points worth considering, but if you are not a person who is building new ideas or programs or if you are not working for a software company or are part of a design team, then shut up. You know what I'm talking about here; I'm talking about the kind of creativity that comes from sitting and thinking and then imagining scenarios that may involve you or may not. I'm talking about people who sit across from one another and not once check their phones or their IPADs or their whatever the hell they are checking while they eat dinner with you. Look into my eyes, smile at me, tell me a joke, point to the painting on the wall or at the man at the next table who has inadvertently spilled ketchup on his tie. Say something silly or stupid, but do not under any circumstance tell me that you have to "get this" and then pick up your phone. Because you will have instantly lost my respect and possibly my interest and most certainly, my friendship. Of course I realize that a new generation is being weaned on programming and that it is part of our future, the constant need to "update," but I will never understand choosing that over real people and real situations and the chance to be with people rather than in cyberspace. I mean, I like facebook, I like chatting with people who I don't get to see anymore because of geography or lack of time and I love that I can send them a message quickly or set up a date or whatever, but I will never understand the constant addiction of those who sit in front of the screen for hours on end and who wait for an opportunity to LOL. I don't get it and I'm guilty of it, but maybe by acknowledging it, I am more aware of it and will try to minimalize it too. What would Alduous Huxley say? Brave New World indeed.

I read a piece of fiction not long ago entitled Feed and although it is a piece of adolescent fiction, I found it terrifying and right on target. It was published 5 or 6 years ago and the plot involves future (teenagers) and a society in which a "feed" is inserted into your head when you are young, a constant stream of information that updates and changes and advertises constantly and which, NEVER shuts off, not even when you are sleeping. This society has become so accustomed to being plugged in 24/7 that they don't even realize that they are being controlled and brainwashed, that is, until the protagonist decides that he no longer wants the "feed" and then the plot ensues. Fascinating, very 1984, but in an even more overt manner as a chip is actually implanted rather than an idea. Well, not just any idea, "Big Brother" is an idea that still terrifies many of us, even into, now, 2011... My point here, you know what it is, if we literally lose our minds to technology, then what happens to our imagination, our creativity, our spontaneity, our love for time and space and quiet? Why must my children be constantly "doing" something in the form of technology? Because when they aren't, they are behind, out of it, not keeping up with everyone else.

I went to get my toes done today; a real privilege that I haven't enjoyed in some time and I relished the thought of sitting quietly for half an hour, reading my book... to my chagrin, well, to my absolute disgust, as soon as I walked in, as there were only three other customers in the salon on this rainy day, the manager turned on the three televisions that are mounted on the walls; don't even get me started about televisions in public places; turning us into a society of fucking zombies, I swear, but I digress. So, I go and sit down, trying to ignore the movie that is on, which, by the way, is completely inappropriate for a salon that allows teens and children and there are subtitles which show all of the words (and we all know how much I love the word fuck and its companions) that children should not be hearing, let alone seeing. In the section of the film that showed while I was there, I heard: dry humping, dick sucking, fucking me in the ass and getting off. Now, I'm no prude but need I remind you that I came into the salon to get my nails done, not to masturbate or to have my thoughts inundated with images of Christina Applegate dry humping her onscreen husband, okay, whatever, back to what I was saying. So, I'm sitting there, trying not to rage about the televisions when a woman across from me whips out her phone which probably wouldn't have bothered me so much if her fucking piehole wouldn't have started screaming into the abyss. She was so loud that even the manager stopped what he was doing and stood up to look at what the circus clown was freaking out about. "I told you I can't meet you at 6, I need to get there later, how about 7..." and the one sided conversation went on for 2 or 3 more minutes before my ears started to bleed, well, figuratively speaking, but then she snapped the phone shut and we all breathed a collective sigh of relief, at least for the 30 seconds that she sat there until the phone rang and she picked it up, only to start talking again. This woman had no volume control and would most certainly have been evicted from every library or schoolroom on the planet just for the shrill tone in her conversational voice; dear Lord, if that was her speaking voice, I hope that she has no family because if I were her kid, I'd have run away by then, "Yes and then I told the saleslady that it should have been only 29.95 not 32.95..." I could feel my eyes begin to roll back in my head and as I gripped the armrest a little tighter I could feel my colon begin to clench. I wanted to say something, I was going to say something, even if it meant that I would embarrass myself and eveyone around me. She had set my teeth on edge and I couldn't let it go, but then, thankfully, the manager went up to her and asked her to please speak more quietly, not to stop speaking which would have been my preference, but to speak a bit more softly and this woman didn't take offense; she seemed a bit embarrassed actually and she bid her counterpart goodbye and hung up the phone, apologizing to the manager for her tone. He smiled and she didn't use the phone again. Much more diplomatic than how I would have handled it, but that's why I'm not the manager... the rest of the hour was uneventful.

I wish that I could give reasons for my hostility, but I really don't have any other than what I've said in regards to our inabilities to sit still and our fostering, our nurturing of conditions like ADHD with the self induced saturation of short bits of information constantly flying at us, through us, becoming a part of us. I think being bored and learning to cope with that notion is a real skill because sometimes, you just are and that's perfectly okay. You cannot expect to be entertained all of the time nor should you want to be. Or if you do, what happens when that doesn't work out for you? Hell, I don't answer my phone half the time because I don't want people to know where I am. I want to be left alone and that is getting more difficult these days.

As a teacher, it infuriates me that in a two hour class that people cannot stay off their phones. I realize that not everything that I have to say is interesting or even all that important, but this is college for crying out loud and you paid to be here and to learn something. So put the fucking phone away and pay attention because the next time that I see the top of your head as you pretend like you are not texting in my class, I'm going to whip out a can of spray paint and give you some new hair color, count on it. Are we going to be thankful for opposable thumbs just so we can text "K, thnx, Yup." Wouldn't our ancestors be proud?

I wonder what my childhood would have been like if I hadn't had to climb trees or sit on the porch bored beyond reason or without walking to the library to get books. I wonder if I wouldn't be so averse to the technological quicksand in which we reside if I'd grown up like my children are, in a world where it is abnormal to be without the latest, the greatest, the most recent... I already know the answer and I don't like it, but it is something that I have to consider, that we all have to consider. I do so love my Ipod though...lol...

Something about nothing...

I have been reluctant to say what I really think about many things, not out of fear, but out of a self preservation, particularly for my family; which isn't really "self" preservation, but it is when one thinks about the inherent damage that one might cause simply by writing down words and thoughts that cannot be revoked. My children are living in a community that is tight knit and that, is both good and bad. I can threaten the 13 year old simply by saying, "I know someone on every single corner of every block and if I catch you without that freaking helmet, you're grounded" and, I do know someone. On the flip side, I know someone on every corner of every block... Living in the same city for a long period of time is like that; an old friend who you don't want to get rid of, but even if you could, you don't want to.

We rode our bikes down through Hermosa Beach yesterday afternoon and by the time we got back, the sun was setting. I go to the beach a lot, but there are times when my youth, my teenage years wash back over me and yesterday was one of those times. We spent so much time at 2nd Street in Hermosa when we were teenagers and countless hours skating down the strand, stopping for ice cream, playing volleyball, talking to friends along the different streets. The beach community is a great place to grow up; laid back, good weather, lots of activities and people who value the outdoors. So as we rode, I thought about all of those lazy days and endless sunsets, of swimming in the waves and catching sandcrabs, watching the dolphins in the surf and the surfers sitting on their boards waiting for the perfect crests that never really seem to come in Hermosa, but sometimes they got lucky. There were many people taking pictures and talking about "return flights home" and I was smiling, wondering what it must be like to visit southern California especially during the holidays when, despite the current excessive rain, we can very often wear shorts in the middle of December. Visiting California; another experience that I'll never have in that sense and another example of growing up taking something for granted. Ironic once more because I never wanted to stay here and part of me still doesn't, but it is a good place to raise a family and, like I said, there are so many benefits to living so close to everything that how can one really not consider staying? Well, if they've driven on the 405 recently, they might change their minds. That freeway... fucking A.

I always wonder when I'm writing these, whatever the hell they actually are because they really have no shape or form. I basically just sit and tilt my head over and the words kind of spill out. Seldom do I proofread or read them after I've written them because if I did, I'd probably just delete them all. Whatever, anyway, when I'm writing them, I'm wondering who is reading them and really, why? I mean, I'm no Jack Kerouac nor do I offer any real insight into the human condition. I'm not all that smart and I do hold back because I'd like to keep some of my friends and my job. I'm just, I'm just, well, I just am and part of me wonders why on earth anyone would even remotely care what I had to say even for entertainment value. It's like therapy for me though. I write down my thoughts, like in a journal, but I'm too lazy to actually pen them and I feel lighter, relieved even to have bled the toxic and frustrating ideas out onto the page. I feel like I've put them out there and now, someone or something else has to deal with them. And, if not, then, at the very least, I don't have to think them anymore. I do have recurring thoughts that I can't seem to get rid of and they sometimes plague me throughout the day and into the night. I lay in bed and I think about what I've seen or read or heard and I'm bothered to the point where I can't sleep. I worry about my children and the kind of world that they are inheriting and I understand my part in that act. I am frightened for them and for what kind of future they will have, but I'm also frightened for everyone else too. I don't understand why change takes so long and is such an arduous process. There are so many simple solutions to complex problems that it tears at me to think how much time and energy and resources are wasted by people who claim to know what they are doing when really, they don't have the slightest clue. Some of the brightest, most intellectual people don't have a clue and yet, we trust them with our lives and our futures? We give absolute control to companies and products and industries without often considering what our support of these is causing or, ultimately, to what it is leading us? Why do we continue to search for that ideal when I think that there is no ideal; that in the end, there is only damage control. Excessive amounts of damage control.

We get fat, we go on a diet, well, not everyone; our car makes noise or a light goes on, we get it serviced, our roof begins to leak, we patch it up or get buckets or get a new roof. So much of what I see is reactionary; reactions to what is happening around us rather than prevention or, at the very least, a consideration of what is to come and how it might turn out so that we can stop it from happening. I don't want to be a part of a society that turns its head from the sick and the poor and the hungry and although I know many people who are doing everything they can to help the plight of human beings just like they are, I know just as many people, if not more who sit around and complain about how things are and how they "just don't seem to change." I think the main reason why they don't change is the existence of these people. There is absoultely no logic in complaining about a problem if you are not going to make an attempt to help solve it. You are only adding to the chaos surrounding it and then you are creating more by putting out ridiculous and often petyy, one sided notions that contribute nothing. Maybe there is no such thing as being enlightened, but if there were, it wouldn't be found in Starbucks or at Forever 21 and it sure as hell wouldn't be found at the Coach outlet. I am not against capitalism or consumerism; why would I be? I'm a consumer and I buy things that I want and that I don't need. Of course I do and so I am guilty of it too. I take that as my personal license to complain about it because as I look around, I am bothered and sometimes sickened by the amount of "things" that I have accumulated over the years. "But therein lies the dig" I think because part of me wonders, knows even that if all of it were to go away that I would be exactly the same person I am right now sitting here. I don't need any of it and whatever I wear or don't wear and however much money I spend on books or on art or on music does not dictate the kind of person I am if I can still look at myself and say, honestly, that I would be the same without it, without any of it. I try very hard to find a balance and it is a struggle to do that in a world obsessed with status. Luckily, I am not a clotheshorse nor am I a person who feels validated by how "much" she has. I am fortunate to feel that way I think, but I'm also glad that over the years I've had the opportunity to work and to make my own money and to put real value on effort and hard work and education. For those things, I am grateful to my parents, my friends, my teachers and to a community that offered those opportunities.

We live in a time of trial and error, of corruption and disloyalty, but, I also see a lot of real people who are trying, every single day, of their own volition, who are making a difference, setting a good example and who do care, very much about what happens to our community, our society. Those people deserve much more credit than they get and those are the people that I want to see on each corner of each street where I live. Those people make me happy.

And so, I've divulged nothing of importance today, the first day of a new year, nothing philosophical, nothing worth remembering. At the same time, I've purged myself of a number of inane thoughts and I've just wasted fifteen minutes of my life, avoiding another load of laundry and making a snack and counting down the minutes until I have to go and get the maniac. I hope that this year brings some good surprises for all of you, some real change in a way that mimicks The New Deal or Civil Rights or Women's Suffrage; I hope that this year finds less intolerance and more recycling and I hope that those who are responsible for disasters and incidents that have destroyed lives will own up to their part in the situation and tell the world, once and for all, "I am to blame and I will fix it." We'll see what happens.

I'm supposed to go and watch the Rose Bowl soon, does anyone know who is playing? WTF...