As good a place as ever, I find myself stuck. I am insignificant. I am clear on that. I watch British TV and find that I am watching the next generation, the up and coming Burtons, McKellen's, and Gielgud's. I work with small children, I am watching the next's. All of them, and two of them are mine, but there are more coming and they are amazing, as are my own. My father apologized, but my mother didn't. Instead she sent me a letter, the message basically was "well, good luck with the next bit". Funny when you think of it, I guess I also earned my realistic, pragmatic viewpoint from her. I recently realized the whole reason I pursued acting was to get her attention, and it worked, really well. For quite some time she would take the time to direct me in my monologues, she was really good at that, and I learned stuff, and got better. Then I started making friends, people would admire my work and "voila" friends, so I kept doing it. Too, for a brief time she actually seemed to like me. But, no more. That part is over. And, now she doesn't even pretend to like Christopher. That part, too, is over. Why? I've been sad about it, I am so very much like her in many ways. And, yes, I am also like my father. Now I am studying the Autism Spectrum Disorder and beginning to believe that she, perhaps, qualifies, and maybe in a "shadow" form so might I and my siblings, and to some degree, perhaps even Christopher. I see bits of each of us in the descriptions and am, frankly, freaked out and anxious, nervous and worried to continue my studies, and, too, on some level I just want to crawl into a hole, cover up and expire. There is a weird jealousy I am experiencing for those who've left. I watch and observe and marvel and admire this place and all the beings that inhabit it and the things these beings are capable of and think wow! really, and on the other hand the pain these experiences inflict is often so debilitating that I find myself completely paralyzed. So there it is.

As good a place as ever, I find myself stuck. I am insignificant. I am clear on that. I watch British TV and find that I am watching the next generation, the up and coming Burtons, McKellen's, and Gielgud's. I work with small children, I am watching the next's. All of them, and two of them are mine, but there are more coming and they are amazing, as are my own. My father apologized, but my mother didn't. Instead she sent me a letter, the message basically was "well, good luck with the next bit". Funny when you think of it, I guess I also earned my realistic, pragmatic viewpoint from her. I recently realized the whole reason I pursued acting was to get her attention, and it worked, really well. For quite some time she would take the time to direct me in my monologues, she was really good at that, and I learned stuff, and got better. Then I started making friends, people would admire my work and "voila" friends, so I kept doing it. Too, for a brief time she actually seemed to like me. But, no more. That part is over. And, now she doesn't even pretend to like Christopher. That part, too, is over. Why? I've been sad about it, I am so very much like her in many ways. And, yes, I am also like my father. Now I am studying the Autism Spectrum Disorder and beginning to believe that she, perhaps, qualifies, and maybe in a "shadow" form so might I and my siblings, and to some degree, perhaps even Christopher. I see bits of each of us in the descriptions and am, frankly, freaked out and anxious, nervous and worried to continue my studies, and, too, on some level I just want to crawl into a hole, cover up and expire. There is a weird jealousy I am experiencing for those who've left. I watch and observe and marvel and admire this place and all the beings that inhabit it and the things these beings are capable of and think wow! really, and on the other hand the pain these experiences inflict is often so debilitating that I find myself completely paralyzed. So there it is.

Why?

I have no idea. I am exceedingly depressed, but no body, not you, not me, and certainly not those I love need be exposed to that. Depression is depressing, and bad for you. So, there you are, and here I am, and so it goes.

2b y'or knot

It’s F’day weekend.

He might describe it as "being released", I've described it as one big "F,U right backatcha". We haven't spoken since. Nor will we until he can #1 explain his thought process or #2 apologize.

IF I were to take a stress test, and the Dr. wanted me to run on the treadmill, I would have this to say… "Um, I don't think it's actually all that necessary, ya see doc, if a Tiger is going to choose me to have for dinner, then I'd rather die running than actually feel the cat bite down, so I'll run until my heart explodes, then the Tiger will get his well chosen supper (it is said that the carnivores who hunt bring down only the weak and sick, thus increasing the strength of the species they hunt) and my boys the life insurance $$'s. What does knowing I have a condition help me accomplish actually?"

When I was small, I knew I was well-loved. I was so very fortunate, and I believed there was enough love to go around.

Because I was so well loved, by surrounding, supporting family members, [not by my actual parents, they were entirely too young to know how to "love" in the way that parents must], but because I was so well loved, I thought I had enough love to go around. Now I’m not so sure about that. I know I have enough to love my sons. I love my siblings, albeit from a distance. I know I love my "few good friends" for which I am grateful and whose numbers are increasing (oddly enough).

Too, I know I love my beau. But this love I have for those mentioned does not heal the worlds ills, it does not solve the issues that have arisen amongst my immediate birth family. I say birth family because you can form a "chosen" family which is what I am in the process of establishing at present.

Still I needed, today, to seek out Hamlet's famous dialogue as found below, and for the 1st time I believe I might actually be able to do it some justice and so I may choose to memorize it for my next audition piece.

"To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them?

To die: to sleep no more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd.

To die, to sleep; to sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause:
there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life;

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely (CONTEMPT), the pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns that patient merit of the unworthy takes,
when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin?

Who would fardels (BUNDLE) bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, the undiscover'd country from whose bourn no traveler returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; and thus the native hue of resolution
is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action.

Soft you now! The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remember'd."

I am about to pick my Ophelia up from the airport... when he is about, my spirits tend to soar and my worries hide. But, soft, life lies waiting.

no place on this earth to place my sorrow...

I share it some with my love, but he can't carry it all. Nor can I. Certainly not my sons. There is no place I can situate my sad, the nightmares, the abandonment, my grief. Feena the Fiend I've been titled, and they would rather believe their story about me than in the kindnesses, the consideration, the loyalty, the care, the love. And, instead they invite me to familial gatherings to appear "loving" as though their desertion, their betrayal, the deceit is non-existent and did not occur. They do not want me about, I am a hindrance to throw away, worthless and apparently incompetent. And, I am supposed to come when they beckon. My sister believes in them, so do my brothers. But actions always speak louder than words, and theirs have not gone unnoticed by those whose existence does not depend on theirs. Their disinterest in me, my well-being, my life is sometimes insufferable, but their disinterest in my sons is enough to drive a mother insane. I do not understand it. I can not fathom it, nor them. I have been loved by more than a handful. I am loved now by more than a handful, just not by my parents. And, so it goes.

J u no

I guess, I mean, I suppose I have to say, that I am a writer. I could be a teacher, I love to encourage others to blossom. I am a great appreciator of the unique in each of us. But when people ask me "who I am" or what inspires me... I have to say, and honestly, I am an observer, and sometimes a fixer, when allowed. Too, I am constantly inspired by the people around me, by this world around me. I get inspired by all of "your" great ideas, dreams, hopes and futures. I sometimes think if there was such a thing as reincarnation... I am not likely here to do much aside from watching. People fascinate me. I think I fall in love even with the ones who dislike me. I can't explain it, save I know they have their stories, too, and that IF one were able to dig deep enough into their backgrounds, one would find out the "why" and "how" of who they are. People "know" stuff. Some are born to "do" things. They come out knowing what their passion is, they immediately have a purpose, a drive. Me, I was just happy to be here, and pleased as punch to look, listen, and be, with alot of puddle whomping, getting dirty and twirling around thrown in. Seriously, it's all I wanted to do... So, when I'm faced with people who "know" what they want out of life, where they want to "go" and who they want to "be", I become overwhelmed. I want to be loved and appreciated. I want to be enjoyed. This is why I go back and back to the theater. It's an easy fix. I am so often blown away by the people around me, that I think to myself, what could I possibly have to offer, there are so many wonderful people out there, who am I, just a... 47 year old woman, mother of two totally amazing sons, girlfriend to a brilliantly creative, clever, kind man, disenfranchised daughter, estranged sibling, who happens to write some poetry, enjoys occasionally sketching and dabbling in other artistic mediums, loves the theatre and film, reading, and walking about, while studying people. I so very much enjoy my niece-ah-lees, and nephlinks, and miss my 4-yr. olds, but the young men they've become constantly enthralls, enchants and enrapts me, like you can't believe, like they can't ever likely "really" know. So what it is it I'm trying to say here...? not sure, just actually trying to work it out.

life keeps a-rollin'

I believe I've 'bout cured anyone of reading this, and that's good. Typing is faster than writing my fingers can almost keep up with my brain.
Today I received news of my 1st born. Looks like he is staying for quite a while longer far-far away and across the sea.
I've said numerous times that I did not birth them, my sons, to be cannon fodder, and I meant it! But, I've grown so "accustomed to (their) faces" that to be without is like walking around with a gigantic hole in my heart that simply sits there empty.
I want to be excited, thrilled for him, for his opportunities, for his creative, impassioned intellect, but I simply miss him so very much.
Crazy. I only want each to be completely happy.
Life serves up these odd moments of quiet. Just before Chris got this job offer Raul was traveling extensively, and John was well wrapped up in summer school and then off to NYC and moving in with his dad, and lo' and behold, Chris and I spent some really nice time walking and talking and hanging out.
Now we will likely never have time together like that again.
He will stay for another few years, at least, in Japan, there he will again fall in love, for he, like his mother can not help but do so.
He will have a family and if we're lucky, he'll bring them back to be nearer to us.
But even that is not a likely possibility, only a hope.
I miss him, I miss his brother, daily, it is a growing ache.
It is life.
You want them to go out and venture forth on their own and be who it is they wish to be.
That is what being a parent is about.
All I can say is "phone home" and "ouch".