My Favorite Mistake

Hmmm. I thought that this would be an easy and fascinating topic.

It's not. It's hard.

So, I figure that probably, **I** am my favorite mistake. The title is ambiguous. The possessive pronoun "my" could either modify "favorite" or refer to "mistake." (Yes, I taught grammar and was hated by poor first-year college students. Why do you ask?) I will take it in the former sense.

I don't have a mistake child. I am one.

[Side note: Being one, I'd prefer not to ever have one. That could, partly, have to do with an abject fear of pregnancy, but I think mostly it's that I can't, at the moment, picture myself as a responsible enough adult to take on another human. I'd rather get a dog someday (and I'm not responsible enough for that yet, either.)]


My existence, in general, was a mistake. Don't take this the wrong way -- I mean this in a light-hearted sense. I do not have misguided, retroactive self-pity about a bunch of circumstances which I had no control over. Two kids had sex (damn bad Catholic kids who have either entered Catholic recovery or are still going to hell). I was born. Two people who didn't have children and wanted them were "discovered" and I had a family. The stars aligned, or some such nonsense.

Actually, my theory on adoption is this: it isn't fate, it isn't luck, it isn't some crap of a "blessing." That's all bullshit. It is a group of faulty human beings who are trying to create a workable solution to a series of problems.

Problem 1: birth control is inadequate in response to the human reality that kids, who are by nature not yet all that responsible, are having sex, which yields
Problem 2: unintended pregnancy, which yields
Problem 3: kids, in general, probably shouldn't raise kids.
Problem 4: there are adults who would like to be parents and cannot or do not want to biologically reproduce.
Since problems 3 and 4 can be combined to create a workable solution, there you go.

In general, it would be great if things happened according to plans. We all make plans. They go skittering off the rails more often than not.

Sometimes? Things work out okay, though. All of the weird circumstances that make up my abominably normal life are things that I wouldn't change. Even the lowest of crappy moments in my life are things that I cherish.

And that's enough of my mid-year existential review of my bastard-ly beginnings.

internet bizarro world

I got dragged into blogging and then discovered that I liked having an outlet for the constant and random writing I've done my entire life. This blog was Cooth's brainchild, but I've been happily playing in the sandbox with everyone else. I like it here. It's different and a bit weird, but in a good way.

And then there's this week's theme. I read the life is short posts by my comrades at the jukebox, and for once? I feel the age gap. I totally get where Meg is coming from. I'm there. But then, we're the same age. I can relate to Cooth and Tug's posts, but differently.

My mother insists that it is never too late to do something -- well, not until you're dead. I've been planning a trip to Spain for this fall. I figured, life is short. I keep waiting for people to want to travel with me and things keep falling through. I have a secret savings account (secret from me in that it's at a different financial institution than my checking account and money is automatically deposited there) like magic, I now have enough money to travel. If I do it carefully, that is. So I decided to go. My mother may come with me. I know that sounds weird, but I don't like nightclubs and that's about the only thing she'd not be interested in doing. We've traveled together before and had a great time.

So I guess my point is that when you start taking the reigns, things start falling into place. And age is just a number. Having friends who aren't my age helps me gain perspective -- I am coming to grips with the fact that there isn't a magical age at which I will have figured it out. I may never figure it out. Or maybe I will learn all about it in Spain. One can always have hope.


One of my all-time favorite movies (queue the cheese!) is Dead Poets' Society -- Robin Williams whisper-croaking Carpe! Carpe Diem! Seize the day, boys, seize the day has been stuck in my head forever. There is a point in the cheese fest, and it's not just those little toothpicks they stick in the cubes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Funny thing, Tug, but this song comes off one of my favorite albums, that I discovered in a totally appropriate, life is short, seize the day way. I love Sarah McLachlan. A few years back, she came in concert to The Cities -- 8 hours of driving each way, but it happened to be on a 3-day weekend. So I went. The tickets were a gift and a great time was had by all -- Sarah is an excellent concert. But Butterfly Boucher was the opening act. She was AMAZING. Worth the ticket price even without the main act. She's, well, just off the charts fun and witty and lyrical. After having technical difficulties with her instrument shorting out, she said something like "eh, I guess you're not going to hear the rest of this song. Buy an album!"

I did. And did not regret it.

Wowsers!

Even Savage Chickens have picked up on this week's theme!!!

Life is Short....and other things

When Kt gave me the list of songs for the month....I thought "Gee, these sound easy." I was wrong.

I’ve been on the planet now for 45 ½ years. Wow. Where did the time go? What have I done? Why am I here? Who can answer this question? When is my time up?

I look around and see people who have really accomplished a lot in their lives. A recent death of a young person has me thinking. I did not know this person, but he is important to me. He had many friends and I have been reading many wonderful things about him. This has me wondering how I will be perceived when I am gone. I’m not at all thrilled with what comes to mind.

I have led a very mundane and un-remarkable existence. My job is mediocre; but I like it. I am somewhat educated; but I'm back in school and enjoying learning again. I'm happy to sit at home and watch tv in the evenings; but when I do go out, I'm very easily entertained. I haven't had a decent vacation for years; but really want to go to Vegas for my birthday this year. I don’t know that I have made a difference in anyone’s life and certainly not to society as a whole; but I do pay my taxes and vote. I’ve never had a "big dream" that needs to be fulfilled; but I'm not feeling let down because I haven't fulfilled my big dream. I find it hard to save money; but I manage to get by. I suck at pretending to like people; but if I do like you, I'd do damn near anything for you.

I’ve made a lot of mistakes. My Favorite Mistake has to be my son. Even though we are constantly working through some kind of crap. Whether it be his behavior, my bitchiness, his lack of responsibility, my wish to be appreciated.....He is still mine. And I love him. I seem to always be Sitting, Waiting, Wishing for something. Well, Fuck This Shit....I gotta get busy living. It's time.

Life IS short......

The list.

So some of you know that I have a brother that was killed young. He was 19. It was hell - for all of us. A lot of times when a friend or family member leaves this earth too soon, they are made out to be a saint. For what would have been my brother's 40th birthday, I contacted each & every classmate of his I could find, and asked them to e-mail me one memory they had of him - I put these all in a booklet and gave it to my parents on his birthday. If you would have read this, you would have loved him too. Things I never knew, and I'm glad I found out. It's not just me and our family that thought he was an amazing person. The one thing his death taught my family was to ALWAYS remember to tell the ones you love, that you love them. There really may not be a tomorrow, or a second chance. It also taught me to LIVE. Enjoy life! I am lucky enough in this life to have found lifelong friends that feel the same way - some of you may have noticed this with Cooth - a friend of mine since - a LONG LONG time ago - we'll keep it at that. YEARS.

Another such friend I met while living in Phoenix. She's the one that was along for the ride when my spare tire melted to my trunk & the truck driver with green underwear had to save us. Our first time getting to know each other, it's 1000 degrees outside, and she laughed this all off - a keeper. So when she found out I was moving away, she said "What haven't you seen/done in Phoenix that you want to? We're making a list, & getting it all done before you leave". She put things on the list that I didn't even KNOW were in Phoenix or the area.... She contacted her ex husband & told him to make extra time for the daughter (he's a great dad, they're on good terms) so that she could take me through the list. She dropped her LIFE to finish my "Phoenix life" with me. If it was something the daughter could & wanted to do with us, she & a friend came along for the ride. It. was. AWESOME. We talked to a psychic medium that FLOORED ME. (On my brother's birthday) We hiked (I am SO not a hiker) South Mountain for the view.....we checked out bars with saddles for barstools & NUMMY burgers, nummy men....we took road trips, went to the renaissance Festival (my 1st!) and ate bigass turkey legs with our hands....we laughed. And laughed. And cried, and laughed some more. She's been to Idaho to see me & found my massage therapist there that I saw until I moved. She's been to Colorado a couple times to see me and we explore this state. We even gave some young kid a "spankie sandwich" (it's a DANCE people) for his 21st birthday - he asked for another! Said it was his best birthday present EVER. I've been back to Phoenix to see her & the daughter, & will be going there this year for my birthday. SHE helped me re-learn the true meaning of Seize the Day. She GETS. IT. For reasons I will not go into respecting her privacy. But she gets it. So everyone, get out your #2 pencils, a piece of paper, & start your list. Don't wait until you move to do it - do it all. Do it now. Enjoy life! Because yes, it can be very short.

And the name Butterfly? LOVE it. She's a free spirit (I do not know her personally...her bio said so).....she's got to be awesome! Another 1st for me, brought to me by kT. It's been a fun month, thanks.

Cat time please

Okay, perhaps I'm "too young" to be saying this, but I, for one, and very happy that life is short. This shit is hard bizzichs! My god. I remember being a wee thing and running to the mailbox just HOPING that something would be in there for me. And what would there be? Little white envelopes with windows marked for my dad. Man, I was soooo disappointed. I wanted to be allowed to stay up late and watch the 8:00 tv shows. I wanted a cool job in an office like my dad. I wanted to wear makeup. I wanted to drive a pretty little car that was all my own. I wanted a pony. So I spent all of my spare time dressing up my cats and pushing them around in a baby carriage.

Now? I have all of my damned bills emailed to be, because if I get one more of those stupid white envelopes with stupid little windows I'm going to scream. I can't get to sleep at night because I'm enjoying me decompression time so much (usually watching mindless forensic tv that then gives me nightmares) that I stay awake way too late and can't get up in the morning. I drive to work (please don't get me started on work) For-Ever (it's more than an hour people. Come. On.) thinking that I should have gotten to bed a hell of a lot earlier than I did, realizing that I forgot to put on make up (and who really wants to wear that crap anyway?), wait, did I brush my hair this morning? And my LORD this car is costing me a ton of money, and what the heck am I going to do when the warranty wears out in 99 THOUSAND miles, because that's like... 3 years in my world. I realize that a pony is the dream of a child because having a pony would mean actually having to have time to take care of said pony, and if I can't find the time to put on make-up, and I'm exhausted all the time, I'm never, Ever, getting up every single morning to feed a pony and muck it's stall, even on Christmas (and what happened to Christmas anyway). And all I want is time at home, during daylight hours even, to dress up my cats and push them around in one of those cool cat strollers.

Thank god life is short, because I don't know how much of this "adult" crap I can take.



I would like the stroller in pink please.

My favorite "mistake"

Here she is....looking like a rock star! She & her fam had a fa, reunion this weekend with SIL's family so we didn't talk on the phone as much as usual. I got a LOT done around the house, they had a BLAST, all is good. She called when they got home, we chatted, said our good-byes. She called AGAIN, had more to say, we laughed until we both cried. She, truly, is an amazing person that makes me proud each & every day, & that I am very lucky to have in my life. 26 years ago, when I found out I was pregnant, I was SHOCKED. Did not want to tell my parents. Something like that? You've got to tell - no keeping THAT a secret. Her dad was THRILLED, we got married, life is wonderful. By the time I went into labor with her, I had to have someone drag his drunk ass out of the bar to drive me the 45 miles to the hospital. He made it through the birth, & didn't come back until 3 days later when we were ready to go home. Needless to say, that marriage didn't last. And I've never looked back. K & I have gone through some shit, but we've made it through. There is nothing that melts my heart more than when she, a totally responsible grown-up calls & says "Mama, I need your help with ____. Or advice. Or just want to talk."....Her conception may have been a "mistake".....her life is not. K, your mama loves you. And may wear combat boots. Occasionally. And if you'd let me? I'd probably dress you funny. But that's another post.

Last Song of my Reign

"Life is Short"

Butterfly Boucher

Grits Ain't Groceries

Thank goodness. I don’t like grits. I would starve if that was all I had to eat. Okay, maybe I wouldn’t. If that Was all that was available to eat, I’d eat it. I think about how cats and dogs pretty much eat the same thing day after day after day. No variety. How boring. I suppose that is why they are able to lick their own genitalia.

Memories of Breakfasts.......

kT got me thinking about grits for breakfast. My dad's family is from the south, so there were ALWAYS grits around, & I'm sure they'd all tell you that they ARE groceries. Some of my relatives might also tell you Mona Lisa IS a man, & they've had beers with him while roasting pigs on spits in the backyard, who knows. But the breakfast thing... When we'd get all the family together down south, the girl cousins would stay with one aunt & uncle, the boy cousins with another. WE, the girls, had it made. This aunt & uncle lived on the banks of the Warrior River, so we spent our days water skiing, tubing, and just plain lazing away on the river. This is even where we bathed. Don't get me wrong - they had a beautiful house, showers & all, but when you're spending all day at the river, you just take your shampoo and soap & wash up there because really, there was no need to smell TOO good or get TOO clean for the fish, snapping turtles or water moccasins (AAAAHHHHHHH) in the river. GREAT memories. And the best part EVER? The day always started with a good breakfast of grits and ice cream sundaes. With whatever we wanted on them. My aunt firmly believed we could eat well when we were at home, but at her house, it was ice cream for breakfast. And grits were the staple. So now I'm thinking of my aunt's sundaes, my Grandma's cooking (O.M.G. the FOOD - delISH!)...and I'm hungry. Thanks.

Grits ain't groceries? Awww, shit, man!

To be honest, if grits ain’t groceries, I’m in trouble. About three mornings out of each week, that’s what I eat for breakfast. I’m sure they have some nutritional value. I could check, but I’m not sure that I want to know.

Actually, what constitutes “groceries” in my house wouldn’t feed a family for a day. Part of this is because I am NOT a family – I’m a single person. Have you noticed how hard it is to buy some things in reasonable sizes for one person? I do not need econo-sized. It’s not economical if half of it goes bad and has to be thrown out.

I buy one thing in bulk: paper products. Because Kleenex, toilet paper, and paper towels never go bad.

Then there’s the tree-hugger conundrum. Single-serving sized foods, or smaller packages, frequently require more packaging, which I will then need to donate to a landfill. I take my tree-hugging somewhat seriously – ask Cathy. I make her recycle at my house, because I do. I own a rotary push lawn mower. I try to walk to work when I can. I don’t buy disposable things if there are other options. I do try. But then, instant grits (in their individual packets) and individual string cheeses make the easiest breakfast, when one tires of the naturally packaged and ever-boring banana.

So, in my realm, grits ARE groceries, eggs may as well be poultry, and it would be hilarious if Mona Lisa was a man. But I eat string cheese for breakfast, so take that as you will.

Grits ain't Groceries

I really must thank you Kt for such a wonderful topic that leaves me here twiddling my thumbs going "what the hell do I say about THAT?" I'm ASSuming this is in revenge for us ignoring you last week? Hehe.

Okay.

Great. I google for the lyrics (so that maybe my wee little exhausted brain can come up with something) and the header on the page is the freaking Olsen twins at about 4 years old. "How Rude". Bleck.

I hate the Olsen twins. I've never understood why so many people thought they were cute, because frankly they were 2 very hidious little girls. They are annoying, and talantlss. And for this, they're multi-millionares. I want their agent.

Anyhoo, Grits ain't Groceries. I get it now. It's an "If I don't love you than" kind of thing. My favorite? And Mona Lisa was a man. Hehe. Have you ever actually looked at the Mona Lisa? To quote Aerosmith "Dude looks like a lady".

En queue

Grits Ain't Groceries

by Little Milton


Just because.

Fuck this Shit

In order to get my two bestest friends off my ass.....here is my post. I'm in a good mood today and can't think about one damn thing to bitch about. Sorry. If you really need to hear me gripe, go reread my pms post on my blog. Or just wait a couple of weeks and my hormones will ravage once again.....

Man, I feel so much better now.

Dude!

Did someone say Belle and Sebastian? Because seriously? They're the rockinist of the UK rockers. I didn't even know other people on this side of the pond listened to B&S!!

As for Fuck This Shit? I can relate. I've been suffering from Oh Shit for quite some time now and have finally moved on to Fuck this Shit. I buried the beater for my first ever new car. I'm killing the water bed. I'm trimming the cats ass regardless of the bodily harm done to me because I'm really sick and tired of finding dingleberries all over my house.

So basically? If you have a problem with me finally asserting myself and taking control?

Broken Record

So. You ALL know by now what I would fill in the blanks to "fuck this shit". Broken record. Bitch bitch bitch whine kick scream throw a FIT PULEEEEEZE can I bitch some more. So I'm just going to surprise you now & NOT. bitch. about. it. No fucking of that shit today, no siree. You're very welcome. And to further your enjoyment? My post will be short & sweet since I'm not dwelling on the fucking of the shit. Didja' all know it was your lucky day today?

Just let me say this: I think this has GOT to be my very favorite song name EVER. EV. ER. I'm really going to have to check out these BS dudes some more. kT, you're exposing me to all kinds of new fun - is it as good for you as it is for me? ;-)

Belle and Sebastian on Walden Pond

“Which shit?” you may ask.

All of it. Anything that can fall into that classification. The whole heaping, steaming piles of it that are part and parcel of the road of life. Metaphorically, we’re still in the horse-and-buggy years and I would like to move to the somewhat cleaner (or less visible dirt) of the modern auto era.

Just like my work occasionally turns into a morass of paper work from which there is no escape, life (the non-career-related part) can turn into a stream of distraction. Distraction means lack of ability to focus, a fog of unimportant things laid over what it is I want from life. As I haven’t seen a life-waiter preparing a silver platter from the smörgåsbord Life Choices buffet, I need to be paying attention to the menu in front of me. (On a side note, the extended metaphor works much better for some things than others. This is not one of my best; in fact, it kind of sucks, but it’s making me laugh, so.....)

So, this summer I’ve said fuck this shit and am trying to get rid of the distractions and focus. There is a notebook involved. I have the blogging, though only a fraction of what I’m thinking goes up there. I’ve canceled the cable and hit the library. I am on an epic list-making spree. I’m cleaning out the stuff that has a tendency to accumulate in my living space. I know that I will never live in a zen-modern space because that’s not me, but I can get rid of any and all clutter that distracts and adds to the time it takes to clean up after myself.

I’m trying to pay more attention to what I want and need to do with my time, rather than doing what is expected or what I’ve done in the past. I am trying to be who I am and who I want to be, rather than who I am expected to be.

I think, for me, it is hard sometimes to separate expectations – those I have for myself, those of my family, friends, those imposed by the order of the society in which we live – from the way in which I desire to lead my life.

Apparently, the unexamined life is not worth living. The examined life led Thoreau to a pond and a book of which, despite attempts, I’ve never read much. While I love the idea of building my own cabin (a desire that was reinforced entirely too much by PBS’ Frontier House), I don’t have the time, energy, or willing help that I’d need to do so (not to mention the money and land and upper body strength). I don’t want to step outside the system or go off the grid, (even if the tree hugger in me would love to install solar panels on my 1960 ranch house). I want to be part of modern life and daily society without being its prisoner.

My version of the examined life will, by definition, have to be my own – lived by rules defined by my philosophies, my dreams, my goals, and my needs. (Can I use the phrase “architect of my own destiny?” No, I think that’s a little beyond even me. Could you please pass the wine to go with this cheese?)

And all that, from a three-word title in which one-third is profanity. Fuck this shit.

Next Up:

Well, so much for me sitting, waiting, and wishing. No such luck.

Next week's song:

Fuck This Shit

Belle and Sebastian


Apparently, I forgot to find a photo, so pick one of your own.

JUST JACK!

ahhh.....Will & Grace back when it was good. Jack 2000? Notsogood. But that's not my point for this post. I had never heard of Jack Johnson. My brother sent me a portable CD case for my birthday last year, full of homemade CD's. They were labeled 1.....2......through 6. Then they went to Unplugged 1.....unplugged 2......etc. through UP 4. They were all mix tapes, with quite the variety. And then there was "Jack". So I listened to them all, not having clue one what I was going to get. And I loved them all. I'd write down "CD 3, song 10", and when I'd get a good list going I'd call & he'd tell me who it was & what the song was. And he finally explained Jack. This was an awesome gift - I got to know some new (to me anyway) artists, brother knew all the history of each of them, and trying to listen to something & someone new took my mind off things. It even (kinda) made Wyoming interesting. Kinda. The cool thing about Jack? He's a surfer, started singing at get togethers on the beach.....& it took off. Reminds me of the story of Chris LeDoux. Started singing at rodeos (champ bareback rider).......his parents sold his tapes while he rode. Before you knew it - Garth was singing of him, and offering to donate a kidney when Chris needed it. Garth, offering a kidney. So sing their songs, dance their dances........I'll sit, wait & wish for more Jack. And I haven't seen Curious George yet, but will check it out too.

wishing

(and I thought I'd picked good easy writable song titles! don't prove me wrong!)

Sitting, waiting, and wishing is what I do by myself on The Deck. Okay. Sometimes? I dance. Or nap.

But mostly I sit. I am not good at sitting still. It has been a major impediment in my forays into attempted meditation. I can't sit still and do nothing. I can't think about nothing. I sit, mostly, with a book. Sometimes in front of the TV or computer. Rarely am I able to just sit.

Sometimes, though, on The Deck, I can sit and stare at the tree tops. I don't know exactly where the tree bottoms are for most of the tree tops I can see from The Deck. The power lines sway in the never-ending prairie winds; they make no noise, but the trees do. I wish I knew more about trees, so I could tell you what these are. The ones streetside have rounded leaves and make rustling noises, like a rain stick.

I love it when the wind is high -- I barely feel it, and the tops of the lilacs don't move, but the branches of the tall trees dance wildly.

It's easy to let my mind wander when I'm staring at the sky. Sometimes, I can see birds catching currents far above me. It looks effortless, but takes instincts I cannot imagine possessing. Thoughts and memories and snippets float in my head like the birds in the sky.

I am waiting, as always, for clarity. For those few crystalline moments in which things Make Sense -- where chaos is not the rule and where entropy is momentarily reversed. Or maybe chaos has not left the building -- maybe I have finally fully embraced its presence?

I don't expect a blinding flash of realization -- as my physics professor told me in college, those usually cause bad headaches. But those moments when I finally am tuned to the same frequency as the organize disorder that governs life, those are worth everything.

IV: But, wait! There's MORE!

I'm not usually a competitive person, but I was jealous that Cooth had five weeks for songs and I only had four. So, seeing as how I'm in charge now, I created..... wait for it..........the BONUS song. Blog it when you're feeling it.

(Okay, fine. I just had a really hard time whittling down my choices.)

June's BONUS song will be:


My Favorite Mistake
Sheryl Crow

III: The First Song

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing
Jack Johnson

II: The Theme

This month's Jukebox is brought to you by the number THREE. 3. III.

There were three kings. Three amigos. Three blind mice. Three stooges. Three forms of god in the Christian mythology.

Trinity is an ancient and powerful concept.

But really, all this means to us here and now is that there are three words in each song title chosen for blogging this month. I chose the final songs because the title seemed like good diving boards.

I: The Bloodless Coup

I'm in charge now. All hail! June, month of summer, when random, lazy chaos is supposed to engulf your life. Granted, it's usually when I regret not still being in school (because I would be out. On break.).

For the next four weeks, I will be your goddess of song. I will be your muse, your inspiration for great work based on absolute random whim. I command your keyboards to be swift, incisive, pity, witty, and brilliant.