On This Road

Coming back from dropping my son off at school I saw a duck, being followed by a lot of little yellow fuzzy baby ducks, trying to make their way down a busy street, they were cornered off parallel against the edge of the sidewalk, and with so many parents dropping off their kids in haste along the street , it is amazing they made it as far down as they did.  Then a crow approached. He kept jumping in three steps towards the babies and then then one step back, then three more in again. More crows were waiting in the tree above. A woman walking next to me screamed out "shoo shoo" to the crow--and it worked, at least for right then while we were present.
I started to stay, the regular real me would have stayed a little distance behind her, looking for crows, looking to stop traffic until I followed her to her destination, probably someones backyard with a pool or large birdbath....but I left, thinking about my lists, the dishes, the dirty clothes, all the clothes to still go through and hang back up in the closet, all my homework....as I my made my way farther and farther away, I kept looking back, realizing they were about to cross a busy intersection off a major street, if they even made it that far. I never saw them cross...God, let me stop worrying about these creatures and more importantly let them make it to their home safely. I know all of this is nature and death is a part of life, as well as suffering--but I saw them now, they have a face to me now, I felt her "mother's panic" as the crow kept getting in closer to her babies--let them make their way, have some peace--at least just for today.

Alive

Feeling alive again--is it the full moon approaching? They say that three days before the full moon is when people start responding to it and it keeps happening and then goes away again during the three days after the full moon-- at least that is what the Deputy told me who checks in inmates at the Long Beach jail, he used to be one of my regulars when I bartended. He retired, so I am sure he has no problem  with me sharing...maybe, but I doubt he will ever read my blog--anyway--
I feel great! I feel alive! I feel...happy....wow, can't believe I just said that out loud. Going to enjoy it while it lasts.

Into the Night

Had a dream I was on the city bus late at night and was able to access my facebook account by little silver switches that were made into each seat on the bus, if you turned and looked out the window you would see your facebook page, kind of shadowy, like a projection, on the window and by clicking on the silver switch at your hand you could navigate your way around. It was strange, but yet so convenient and so possible. The bus and the streets I casually noticed were full of people,even though I knew it was around two in the morning, all the people looked rough and angry and stressed, looking at the facebook screen was better... however it caused me to miss my stop, I got off in the next block , to my old "bachelor" apartment, which suddenly was pitch black and deserted-the long front walk way was covered in tree limbs and dirt and leaves, I couldn't make it through, then I remembered I didn't live there anyway. I started half walking half running through the dark, empty street to where I live now with my family, yet at the corner there was construction all around, only a few people worked, but like zombies as if I wasn't there--the concrete was all pulled up in every direction and everything was blocked off, there was no way turn anywhere to get to my home. It was dark, it was cold and I was scared. Then I woke up. Just now.
Not sure what it all means. At the lowest level it made me reflect on how facebook has broken my family and I often felt trapped and nowhere and alone because of it, which it has also done for most people-- which is why it is one of the leading causes of divorce now.  (I didn't make this up, it is a fact and on record with the court systems).
  It kind of made me briefly think of the family movie "Wall-E", if you have never seen it, check it out, a great movie regardless of your age. Just that whole thing of everyone having a screen in their face all day everyday, just that thing of how hard it is to made a human connection living this way.
 And more so it reminded me of this great, deep fear that I have been having that humanity is losing a real connection with one another, everything is cyber, everything is "thought and emotion lite", as a whole people are losing their depth and ability to grow within. And without that we have nothing. Nowhere to expand our minds too, nothing to fall back on.
I appreciate the benefits of the computer and Internet, because of facebook I have found my family that I lost over the years, I am in daily contact with them, and that feels good, however there is a line we cross of becoming addicted to it, of blocking out the family we have right next to us, of robbing ourselves of the chance for mental and spiritual growth and expansion by not just "being", whether that be daydreaming or reading....and a  book you can hold in your hand and read in a hammock or toss in the ocean or not care if you lose or loan out out, a book you can you can get in first edition and treasure, maybe one day meet the writer and have them sign it. Not a little  bright screen on a little handheld computer. And yet again, nothing wrong with that nifty gadget, but if a book is a classic or written by an author I really admire or something I know I will want to add to my collection in my bookcases-if it is a book of that nature, I don't want to scroll through the pages with my fingertip, never feeling paper under my skin, never being able to feel the weight in my hand of how much work they put into it. Something about scrolling through it makes it seem as meaningless and "lite" as an ehow article. And which again-ehow is (sometimes) great-but is informative, it serves a quick purpose, it is not a great work....
Long story short, I take heed to my dreams, personally I will watch how much time I spend on the computer in comparison to how much quality time I spend with my family. I will continue to watch as- for me- I see our culture turning into a mindless, functionless blob of non-thinkers and non-feelers. And all I have been saying the last few days off and on, of becoming more normal in a sense, scratch that, I like being odd and off, at least I am something, at least there are things churning in me, I am not just here following instruction and not having an internal thought, letting my brain turn to mush.

Chicken Noodle Soup

Taking care of my son while he is sick today. I have been making homemade Chicken Noodle Soup, went grocery shopping and stocked up on fruit juices, gingerale, cold medicine, Vicks Vapor rub and for the steamer, Kleenex with lotion for his red nose, stuff to make jello, popsicles and so on....one great memory I have of my mother is that when I was sick she really went into Supermom mode--my grandmother as well, if I had a high fever for more than a day I would often get a little unexpected surprise, such as glow in the dark crayons and black construction paper, paper dolls or a new book. My mother, with all of our ups and downs and fall outs over the years, always knew how to comfort me, she knew how to help soothe me as I healed..that was actually the only way I was spoiled growing up, even when I was older and lived on my own, if I got sick with the cold or the flu, she would stop by with soup, medicines, tea, etc. Taking care of Andrew sick reminds me of those days and that familiar touch of her hand, rubbing alcohol on my back to help break a fever, years later her fast, nervous quick knock at my apartment door, arms loaded with everything I needed to heal and possibly a good book to read.  I miss how much she knew my needs and how she knew instinctually how to respond to that-- she has always been the only person that could and I am sure ever will. I miss my mom right now, I wish I could see and feel her standing vigilant by my side at the times of my darkest hours....

On the Farm

Went on a field trip with my son to a farm and spent the day with the class, we went from the classroom to the bus to a guided tour to lunch to the bus and then  back to class right in time to leave, just like clockwork.  And along the way valuable information was presented to the students in an easy to understand and easy to follow method and at the right time to prepare them for the next step in the day.  The day started with a song, we then learned what it meant to be a polite farmer, which prepared us for conduct and what to expect on our day out, we learned about all the farm animals, touching and holding a few, we left with radish plants we started and knowledge of how to care for them so that in a few weeks we could add them to a salad with dinner.....it was all so easy, down to pulling up on the bus ten minutes before dismissal.... I wish I could go back to having that same simple way of life, like how they are taught things the first time--in detail, pulling out the most necessary and valid information as a foundation, as what is to be next-- I feel inspired to think about my daily pattern, such as how to start my day on a positive note, how to get the most out of everything going on around me, seize it, absorb it and make it mine--taking only what I need, only what will help build me, only what will make me stronger.

Bound

Received a beautiful gift today of a leather bound journal.  It was given to me in response to my previous post "A New Notebook", which was flattering because my post was read and flattering because someone believes in me enough to think I can pull this off. And I can. I have before. Unfortunately other times that I have mapped out my whole being, life and existence, I have either done so in notebooks filled with ideas and philosophies that I outgrew or on loose sheets of  paper, such as the back of receipts, blank Kino slips and bar napkins that were often separated, lost or worn into tiny unreadable shreds in the linings of old purses...which was handy, if I failed, if I stumbled, without my guide I could take the easy way back into me--heard someone talk of this exact thing today, he referred to it as taking the path of least resistance. My path of least resistance often involves much longing and or disappointment, with a cocktail or two thrown in to set the mood, and much regret.
Anyway, the ball is in my court so to speak. And I have been caught off guard as well, as I am living in a small patch of self-acceptance now, well at least the last couple of days...and that is even with some things of myself as to which I am not proud still floating around in my brain.  Also,as I say this I should clarify I don't get drunk or drink everyday-but-I am a regular drinker--who just happens to have not had a drink in a longer span of time than normal--so my thinking may be a little more sober and un-enhanced than normal--how this fits into the equation I do not know, it could go two ways--I could plan things out with much more clarity and control or I could swing to the opposite end and be so uptight I don't give myself room to blossom and put together something dull.  However, this book has many pages and I have much to uncover and discover over the next weeks, and especially with Fat Tuesday approaching, I know there will be days of sobriety and days of unwinding peppered throughout my journal and somewhere between the two I will find my truth.
This time will be different. This time I am being held more accountable than ever before, by myself and those I have chosen to place in my life. I have made some changes in my life this year, changes that I have already fallen short on. Yet, I have hope, I have faith, I have people in my life I respect that are counting on me to make the right choices and I have a lot of blank pages to be filled......

This Day

Today I cleaned the house, went through old papers, etc., etc., --not cleaning the house in the spirit of throwing out the bad, throwing out the old, getting rid of the riff raff--no, it was nothing like that--I wasn't "cleaning house"--I was simply cleaning the house. 

Today I was not frustrated, resentful or sad, I was just me....just regular old me cleaning the house, having a regular old day, like a regular person may have, someone that has a man and a child and has sat the day aside to vacuum, oil the wood furniture and use Windex. I had a full nights sleep and not a drink in days.

To outward appearance and scarily even inward appearance, I was a little June Cleaver-ish today. I even wore classic black ankle pants, heeled black leather sandals and full make-up to my son's martial arts class.  People stared at me, probably not sure if I was the same person that normally brought him. A man stopped me on the street and gave me his card, he wants to photograph me and take me to a boat race. I think he thought I was sane, a great catch and someone to take home to mama, lol.

Well, looks can be deceiving. Although I oddly do feel content with life and myself right now. It is a bit uncomfortable. I feel more at ease stressed out.  I am sexier when I am sad or the brink of something....I think this is all because last night was a good time to heal and face the truth as the moon was in the position to help make this possible.  I was informed of this by someone much more enlightened than me, and I felt she was right. I knew she was. Somehow in my sleep, I ironed out the craziness of this year and made it all make sense, even all the wrong and bad things that have happened and may even continue to happen, somehow I made myself and those around me "okay"....which maybe everything is okay, just maybe....if I didn't think and feel so much all of this could feel so good. Maybe I should let it.

The Confession

Sympatico is at war within herself.....by nature Sympatico is forgiving, by nature Sympatico has never been a fighter, but always, always a survivor, yet by life Sympatico has become somewhat jaded, by life Sympatico has become someone who will roll with the punches, eyes to the floor, but you will never feel the blade til she has walked quietly away, belongings in tow. I guess that could be considered passive- aggressive, to turn the other cheek, then sit quietly in the corner reading a book, knowing you are crumbling a person's life, knowing your are damaging their spirit, their soul, their belief in mankind---but these are the only tools Symaptico at a young age was ever instinctually equipped with, after already knowing the loneliness of life and the bruise of love before she knew more than 1,000 words. Before she could even read. Don't let them see it coming, they are bigger than you--as much as I hated life, even as a small child, I still had that instinct to survive.
And yet as I say all of this, write all of this--it is not me-it is an amped up, steroid-driven version of me--a meaner me, yet cooler me. It is the small part of me that I wish grew more, if it grew more, my life would have been different--and even yet with that said--a bigger part of me feels at home and safe with being the weirdo in the room, I have grown comfortably into being ill equipped for life, unsure of everything, clumsy and full of doubt.
Sadly what my life has taught me, cannot defeat my nature. But I will daydream, maybe even act out on, having my nights of scouraging the streets, dressed like a woman who knows, dressed like a woman who will break you. Burn you. Not caring I am burning myself in the process. Sympatico has been dead for years, most people just don't know that. Only the other dead know me, and when we see one another in public we give each other a nod, we keep our secrets. I hear those old voices calling out to me, a memory of childhood..."Step-on-me, Step-on-me, wanna play? Step-on-me, Step-on-me, I love you, I truly do..."--hogwash, all hogwash, as old as I am I want to live big, I want to feel like I am the star of a lifetime movie, but I don't have the follow through, don't have the balls, don't have the (lack of) heart. So I sit and blog and do homework and watch my middle spread and prepare to die at 50.  But maybe I won't die, you can't die twice, can you? Maybe Sympatico came as the lamb, but will leave as the lion....just maybe...

Yemaya

In Santeria, Yemayá is seen as the mother of all living things as well as the owner of all waters. Her number is 7 (a tie into the 7 seas), her colors are blue and white (representing water), and her favorite offerings include melons, molasses ("melaço" - sugar cane syrup), whole fried fishes and pork rinds. She has been syncretized with Our Lady of Regla.
Yemaja has several caminos (paths). At the initiation ceremony known as kariocha, or simply ocha, the exact path is determined through divination. Her paths include:
These paths are in Voodoo/Candomble.

• Ogunte: In this path, she is a warrior, with a belt of iron weapons like Ogun. This path lives by the rocky coastliness. Her colors are crystal, dark blue and some red.
• Asesu: This path is very old. She is said to be deaf and answers her patrons slowly. She is associated with ducks and still or stagnant waters. Her colors are pale blue and coral.
• Okoto: This path is known as the underwater assassin. Her colors are indigo and blood red and her symbolism includes that of pirates.
• Majalewo: This path lives in the forest with the herbalist orisha, Osanyin. She is associated with the marketplace and her shrines are decorated with 21 plates. Her colors are teals and turquoises.
• Ibu Aro: This path is similar to Majalewo in that she is associated with markets, commerce and her shrines are decorated with plates. Her colors are darker; indigo, crystal and red coral. Her crown (and husband) is the orisha Oshumare, the rainbow.
• Ashaba: This path is said to be so beautiful that no human can look at her directly.

The Catalyst

n.

1. Chemistry. A substance, usually used in small amounts relative to the reactants, that modifies and increases the rate of a reaction without being consumed in the process.
2. One that precipitates a process or event, especially without being involved in or changed by the consequences.....

 

A New Notebook

I am a great planner. However I stumble on follow through, the older I get the more I stumble, maybe that is because there is so much more to stumble over now, but outside of that I am a great planner.  And a great outliner and organizer of notes. I have been in a lot of holes and jams in my life and I planned my way right on out of them, but I was younger, I was more fearless and I never thought I could really die. Now death doesn't feel that far away and I have my plans, notes and outlines on that as well. (But don't let my bravery fool you, I stress over how I will go, will it be long and painful, will I suffer, who will be left behind,etc. etc.)
 Anyway--I could fill notebooks of plans,outlines and notes--re-create myself, re-create my life--and make it happen--but too bad I can't plan for everybody else in my life as well (I am going to stop here and say, God, I appreciate the people in my life, don't let my words sound like a prayer for their loss, it is not, it is a prayer for their acceptance of me, where I am, who I am, and maybe even for me to stop trying to fix people, let it go, let them go their own way. ) What I need is a nice clean new pretty notebook, a pen full of ink, some time with nowhere to be and nothing to do-but plan. Outline. Make notes. At some point I will find me--but for now I can't get there--even just to the starting point....and when I do I wish I could just jump in those pages and slam the book shut--with somehow the people I love at my side, somehow it will all work the way I wrote it, somehow we will all be okay. But as for now I stumble.

Paving the Road for Regret

It has been a strange day, everything that I have been avoiding I was drawn to.  Everything I shouldn't be doing, I am. I could say it's because of Superbowl Sunday, but that's not it, I could really could care less about the game this year, I like both teams, Green Bay a little more, but whatever, I would enjoy seeing both teams win. I could say it's because I have a game plan for school, but that's not it either, I believe I would have went my own way before figuring all that out. I don't know what it is, and I could very well regret this all, but for right now, I am just going to be. Give myself a break and just be. For once give myself a day of indulgence.

The Rabbit and What Someone Else Said

Searched the Web high and low, for something to share for the new year today that I liked and wanted to share as a reflection for the day, this was as close as I could get with the time frame I am working with, read and possibly take heed--

"According to Chinese tradition, the Rabbit brings a year in which you can catch your breath and calm your nerves.  It is a time for negotiation.  Don't try to force issues, because if you do you will ultimately fail.  To gain the greatest benefits from this time, focus on home, family, security, diplomacy, and your relationships with women and children.   Make it a goal to create a safe, peaceful lifestyle, so you will be able to calmly deal with any problem that may arise.

Not many people know that the Rabbit is the symbol of the Moon, while the Peacock is the symbol of the Sun, and that together, these two animal signs signify the start of day and night, represent the Yin and Yang of life.  It is said that anyone making supplications for wishes to be fulfilled are certain to get what they want... and in the Year of the Rabbit, the wish-granting aspect of the Sun and the Moon combined is multiplied.  The Moon is YIN and this is the Yin of Heaven, signifying magic.  Thus on each of the Full Moon nights of this year, go out into your garden to gaze into the Full Moon and visualize plenty of Moon dust and Moon glow flowing into you, filling your whole body with bright white light and granting you fearlessness, love and courage.  This will not only strengthen your inner "Chi" energy, it will also bring wisdom into your life."

Listen

It is amazing the ability we have to snap back into place. I am still irritated and annoyed, but have my mindset in a much better place and  have chalked up the high emotional state to PMS, as I have noticed an urge for sweets, mostly chocolate, which I normally do not have--the calendar shows I am a little ahead for PMS, but I am of the age where my body is preparing itself for menopause, while at the same time easily equipped to carry and bare a child. And if not that, I need to watch my sugar--at this point I will just cut it down for a bit and continue to listen.
It is funny how in tune I am to my body now. My mom taught me that before she died. She actually tried to teach me that my whole life, but I was too hard-headed and too caught up in things of the world to listen. I was slowly working my way into "getting it", then got thrown into a quick-study program via life after I had my son and right before my mom was suddenly given a few months to live.
Knowing how to listen to to your body can be done in a common sense way-such as being able to feel a invisible small weight pushing down in the middle of your back and knowing to  prepare to fight off a bug--extra vitamins, fluids, sleep and dressing correctly for the environment may push it off. Common sense listening to your body is understanding what caused your headache, knowing how much sleep you need, knowing when your body needs a salad and knowing when emotionally you are due for some comfort food and to not feel guilty about it. (Listening to your intuition and so on, kind of falls into those same lines, but on a different level--and it really requires a post of it's own--at best, several--so I need to remember, on the days I have nothing to write about, to come back to this topic.)
Anyway, long story short, I am in good spirits again, just back in from a long day out, have homework still to do, bills to figure out and so on. And it is late. I really feel like typing about intuition, and maybe take some other avenues, but I can't--all in good time. 

Nothing Day

Having another day of having absolutely nothing to say again--yet I refuse to miss a posting. Today has been a busy day of getting off of whatever hang up I was on yesterday and getting things done, like I said I was going to do. It wasn't one of those days of getting things done where things just seem to flow and you almost feel fluid as you check things off your to do list, (And for me on those kind of busy days I write in my head, daydream, plan, prepare, plot) no, it was busy day where you just function and the only thought is of what to do next, or worse, what you will have to let go of due to time and still be behind on the following day. And worse than that you think of things you can't fix, bill money that is not there and how it all never seems to end. That is all I have today. That is where I am at.
Yet, as I always (most of the time) make sure of , that my son saw the day completely different, in his eyes we had a big hot breakfast (never mind the dishes to wash later), we went to his Tae Kwon Doe class, I smiled at him as he front snapped kicked his way past me (ignoring the cell phone vibrating with calls from bill collectors), treated him to a slice of pie (fast food), went back for another class at Tae Kwon Doe ( dishes still in the sink) , met Daddy (half an hour late), home for a quick lunch (more dishes) and back out to the park (forgot jacket,brrr) , a night walk ( to Geo-cache, which I find meaningless) back home for homework, dinner, bath time , story time and to quickly write a blog before midnight (and yes, the dishes are still there, along with laundry, more homework, and unlistened to voice mails)--and I think as I type this--maybe if I looked at the world through my sons eyes a little more, let at least some of the negative  go, life would be so sweet....but can I? Could I let go of some of that hostility? What happened to me? When did I become so bitter? Once again, still in adjustment mode, last two days have been a struggle, gonna do my chores still tonight, but gonna play some music, maybe have a glass of wine, dance and front snap kick around the room. Wake up and surprise my son and treat myself to some cinnamon rolls. Carry that momentum I had going but lost, back into my days again.

Loose Skin

Last night I touched my hand to my face while on the computer and realized how loose my skin was.  I mean, I still look "tone", people still think I am about eight to ten years younger than my real age. But I am changing. My sister-in-law worries for us, she worries about us getting those folds on the side of our face from the sides of our nose to our mouth, actually she thinks we already have them, she said one of mine is deeper than the other, which was a little startling, I wake up in the middle of the night and remind myself to turn my face the other way, but outside of worrying about one line being deeper than the other, I have been so busy trying to make time for the book, my son's life, remembering to be happy, books I need to read, blogs I need to write, I really don't worry about getting folds and lines. That's what happens, we are getting older--time to make sure we develop our minds, so we still have our edge regardless of some laugh lines. I have seen some older women that are kind of sexy and cool, they take care of themselves inside and out, and when they laugh and the lines show, they just look like a person who's had a lot to laugh about, a person who doesn't let life weigh on them. ( Opposed to the people with lines across the forehead and a naturally turned down mouth, you can cut bangs for the forehead, but when you have a permanent frown, that is kind of hard to shake. It's a habit that has become your natural face.)

I used to work at a bar with a man much older than myself, he burned the candle at both ends, opening the bar and staying up too late there and it always kind of freaked me out that when he started getting tired, a lot of extra room would grow from the outside of his eyeball to the lower rim of his eye--it would actually start to separate, the lower lid skin would bulge out and make a little pocket.  His skin was just tired, his eyes were tired, his body needed rest but he wouldn't give it to his body. He died there at that bar, God love him, in his sleep in a back room of the bar.

I think it is just a matter of balance, like everything else. Take care of yourself, nourish your body, exercise, get sleep, if it taste good eat it in moderation, drink but don't get drunk, floss. (I have my nerve offering advice, but I work on it, hee hee, I am conscious of it all and often take heed.) However-- don't get so wrapped up in the physical that you forget the rest. Take a class, read a book, learn something...the skin is just the outside part, our thoughts, our knowledge, our passions, our true inner core, our true beauty, lies within. If you only depend on the outside, you're not going to have much substance.The flesh is of matter, one day we will lose it like a snake sheds his skin. One day it will no longer be needed. And when it gets left behind, you will be left with nothing ahead.

Breathe

Had a few errands to run on foot today. Had a lot on my mind, yet the cool air and warm sun felt good. I focused in on my breathing, letting my stress go more and more with each exhale. Slowly I felt lighter, looser, and more mellow. I felt as if in a meditative stance, the way I do in Yoga. Somehow things began to realign within me and I heard that old intuitive voice reminding me of what was important, what needed to be done today and what could wait. I rediscovered my ability of self direction, more than that, calm and focused self direction. I got scared of that for awhile, I got scared of maybe getting a little too caught up in my own power, I recently joined a church and I had begun worrying maybe I wasn't living humbly enough or gracious enough or putting myself on a higher level too much...but that's not it, it's just simply knowing how to slow down, knowing how to take care of yourself. So ready to go back to Yoga this week, as soon as life allows me to get there.

"Bad Decisions Make Good Stories"

Something my neice brought up New Year's Day--and something about it I really relate to. Possibly because I have a long history of bad decisions and even though I may not use my exact personal stories, I often use my moments of realization (usually in retrospect), in which I have majorly screwed up to help develop my characters as they go through their own moments of self awareness. As far as I am in life at this point, I would think (have hoped) that bad decisions were a thing of the past. Or at least not at as constant and continual. And I still make bad decisions, but that often have way less impact on my life. ( Damn, chicken breasts were on sale just two blocks away! Changing my staus on Facebook to "widowed" when I am sick of my spouse.) And outside of that, my bad decisions now are also much different. They are often internal, affecting no one but myself. From the outside world, I (would like to think) appear like I have myself somewhat together, yet internally there is generally always something going on. Wars, small battles, discoveries and struggles with truth. Usually with a light of knowledge at the end of a tunnel, a moment of reckoning of what it all means and then I put it to rest. I look around and realize, I am normal, my bad decisions in my mohawk days are something dead in me, but thank God I can remember it enough to channel those emotions of anger and upheaval, I need it all for my writing. Yet I couldn't be that person again if I tried. And from all of this, I gather I am where I am supposed to be, for now, on my journey.

Unexpected Visits

Had a friend stop by unexpectedly yesterday, she was very excited--actually beyond excited, almost in tears--because she walked into a second hand store and found a pin (brooch?brooche?) exactly like the one that was stolen from her in first grade.  It had been a pin that meant a lot to her and she has always kept an eye open for one like it, even searching online a couple of times, within the last 40 some odd years of her life. It was damn near a miracle--she even wondered if it was the same one. Didn't matter, she got it back. I told her there a lot of miracles in second hand stores, I meet my dead mother there often. Sometimes I wake up and it hits me which store I need to get to--no, have to get to--and get to immediately-and these are the moments that for once in my life I listen to my inner voice and follow-and sure enough when I follow that vibe, there will be something so deep and so personal to my story, to my life, that I can only feel my mother's energy there. I know--sounds crazy, but I party with the dead often. All I need is an empty room, a span of time without any responsibility, maybe some music, some candles, some memories, some good intentions, and a bottle of wine to loosen away from the day and free myself--and I am there. And it's a good thing, they write their story through me, my novel is not my own.

Running Into Sharks

The other night my son and I were coming in late from a visit with the in-laws. Our neighborhood is fairly safe for being a city in LA County; I can easily walk to the corner liquor store alone well after dark and not feel threatened or concerned.  Anyway, me and my five year old son cut between our apartment building and the next from the alley to take the steps up to our home, somewhat of a tight walkway, but normally deserted. As my son bounced along ahead of me, I saw a guy was at the other end dressed way wrong for the cool night weather we have been having, he had something under his arm and was playing with some sort of large cylinder shaped object in his hands. He saw my son before me in the dark and screamed out to him, oddly excited for the encounter, saying “Hey!! I wanna tell ub do oh my that and such” or something to that effect. I firmly, yet quietly yelled out to son, “go on up” –my son , making his way to the turning point into our large square of apartments around a pool , looked quickly at the nut approaching him, looked back at me and screamed “Run!” and took off like a bullet.  In this moment of possible life and death (the guy was apparently crazy or on some serious drugs) I chose not to run, I chose to continue with a steady normal, if not brisk casual, pace, around the entry way to where my son had disappeared.  And I very, very briefly internally and alarmingly questioned my stance as the guy was now within two arms distance from me, once again babbling the same excited speech he gave my son.  I felt already I had responded the wrong way and within a flash of time ran through what I could have done, what I should do in my head. Why did I stay so neutral?

Part of me automatically thinks I didn’t know what this guy had in mind, my son was running up the steps without a key,   if I decided to run behind him, I could bring danger on us both—I’d rather be raped and murdered alone without my son being part of it or a witness of course—and then I thought about how my head was right next to a first floor air conditioner bulging out into the small walk way space we were sharing—if he was going to attack, I was already at a vulnerable area, one push and I would probably be knocked out, with my son running back downstairs and me not alert enough to protect.  At a moment of nothing left to do I said “Hi!” very loudly and smiled broadly hoping to throw him off.  He went back into his strange speech and now close upon me with a side light on the building over us I could see that he was very drugged up.  With several years bartending behind me in hole- in- the- wall bars I quickly calculated he was on E, acid or shrooms-something in that family-thank God not PCP.  I quickly darted around the corner hoping not to feel him behind me—and I didn’t…I got lucky, I could hear his voice still babbling in the distance going down the alley.

Once upstairs with the door safely locked behind us, I questioned my response—did I really act on the flashes of thoughts that did go through my head, or did I just freeze up? I have a history of childhood dreams of running from something I cannot escape, just as we all do (?), and I tend to take the softer approach to life when dealing with troubling people or situations, if something seems a little tricky or funny I generally avoid it. Sometimes I feel funny “responding” to things in life, I was an only and lonely child who spent a lot of hours reading, watching tv and playing my albums and cassette tapes (just told my age), and I don’t think  I felt comfortable interacting with people and just life in general too much. Over the years since childhood I of course made friends, took classes, worked jobs, lived…in fact to avoid loneliness I can think of several times in my life that I was sadly somewhat of a follower, and I have also had several times in my life that I became popular and the one who was followed—a task I never took seriously in the past and probably led some good people down a wrong path, as those were during my party years.  There is nothing I can do now for these people except pray all is well, and I do on a regular basis. Which is what I have decided to do with myself for when the next unexpected situation comes up—and it will—I will pray on it, follow my instincts, and listen for intuition.                                                                                                                                                                                        

Never Been a Scab Picker

I have never been the type of person to pick or pull off scabs, yet last night I found myself in the position of needing to pull off a rather thick peice of dead skin on my index finger from a bad cut last week. The dead part was pretty embedded in the good part of the skin on the finger below the cut, no way was it going to fall off on it's own like I had been counting on. It was either that or let it get ripped off from getting caught onto something and risk it tearing just a hair too low and creating a new injury.
The whole experience reminded me of when I had surgery on my thumb. After surgery, once every few days, I had to go to my hand surgeons office for him to clean it and redress it and eventually tug a little dead skin off parts of the skin that were ready to get "removed from me". I never looked at it when he did it. I often got an accidental glimpse here and there, since it was in front of my face propped up on a table, but I would quickly look away. I went to physical therapy three nights a week with that thumb and again, I would follow directions, but always look off, as if my thumb had really nothing to do with me.  Somehow that kept me from just totally freaking out about it.
One day I came into the doctor's office knowing it was the last time he would undress it, I was expecting to see my old little thumb scarred, but outside that perfect.  Instead it was a large mass of thick layered strange fake-looking skin. It reminded me of my Halloween costume when I was five and went as Planet of the Apes. The doctor begin ripping and pulling away large folds of my thumb and laying them on the table. I screamed. He laughed and told me he knew it didn't hurt, it was just a strange sensation.  I agreed but I didn't like the idea of so quickly losing large peices of myself. I told him I screamed because it was a "sympathy pain", like if I see someone hit their elbow, I flinch for them, for a brief second I imagine their pain. He said "oh, you're one of those." As he continued to pile up my skin on the table he explained to me that people like that (me) don't get anywhere in life. If it doesn't hurt , don't work myself up into a reaction, and for God's sake, if something happens to somebody else don't stop to burden myself with imagined pain. He told me he thought I was smart and I should finish school and stop trying to save the world, I needed to save myself.
I never really figured out what all of that meant to me, although I did go by his office the following Christmas and dropped off a card. It turned out he was Jewish, but he still said thank you and had one of the office girls tape it up by the sign in desk. I always feel like something is undone with me and him. Like there is some kind of private internal polite war we were having and I never figured out my last move to share it. I do that often with people. I write about it all to myself later and end it all with me saying something really cool and somehow I won.  I think I just walked away from this one, and I think I am still figuring out if I have a stance or I should take the advice.
 And the main thing I wonder about him, is what did he do with my skin. Should I have let him just throw it all out? Growing up in the South you see a lot of older woman keeping their hair that fell on the ground at the salon--for one thing the beautician "may do something to you with it" or for another thing if the beautician tosses it out in the trash and it hits the ground birds could peck at it and cause horrible headaches to fall upon you. I am sure I have nothing to worry about with my hand surgeon, he didn't seem the type to run off with my skin to "do something with it", it just bothers me I left such large portions of myself in that office that I had known my whole life.