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".

My boys...

Holding Christopher at home in my apartment on the 1st floor of the building and wondering what I would do to protect him from "intruders" as I sat there fresh from the birthing process my own damn self, and figuring that IF he were sleeping I might fit him into one of his father's cast off shoe boxes in the back of the closet and that would keep him safe while they (the intruders) murdered me, but at least he'd be safe and out of harms way...

I know, weirdo, you are thinking... but at least I wasn't booby trapping the windows and doors. I was simply sitting there, holding that sleeping infant, uncontrollably weeping as he slept, at just how much (unspeakable, unfathomable amounts)
I loved him, and how I wasn't going to be able to protect him from everything, but I was going to very damn well try.

And, now he is more than 1/2 way around the world if you head East - if you head West, well then he is much closer...

And, how did I feel when I held John in my arms? I felt awkward, and anxious...

I held John almost a full 24 hours before I realized that I hadn't actually really touched his skin... save his lips to my nipples for nursing. I realized that maybe I hadn't touched John because I was afraid of betraying Christopher, were I to properly bond with this new baby and welcome him into my heart, I might be squishing Chris out. But, I knew how much I loved the 1st born, and I was already loving my second.

And, so, carefully and with full conscious consideration, I unwrapped John from his blankets and laid his mostly (save diaper) bare body against my own, with his head at my heart, and his body nestled between my breasts, and his toes around my navel, and I stroked and caressed him, as he slept and softly snored (mmhm, even little babies snore). And, I again cried at my ridiculous selfishness.

I held John and knew as I had always known that there was room enough for both in my heart.

To watch each grow has been an amazing adventure. They can be so different and yet the friendship they share, at times, leaves me sobbing for joy. They enjoy each other, they laugh, and have "in-jokes" and quote lines from movies and poems and songs at each other, and when they get angry with each other and they do, they seem to have room enough to forgive one another and move on. They are a continual gift, a continuing privilege, regular moments of bliss.

My two very different, very unique, very wonderful little boys, who've now grown to big and almost big men. I still can not protect them from "all things". I can not protect their hearts from aching, I can not protect their bodies from injury as I could when they were little (for the most part), I can not force anyone else to love them or appreciate them or value them as I do.

What I can do is love them and appreciate them and enjoy them and let them know, as often as they'll allow, just exactly how amazing I find them to be. I can encourage them to pursue their dreams, and acknowledge their talents and abilities.
And, so I try, and I endeavor, and I attempt the same.

My sister's Birthday Present Part II

You weren't even a glimmer in my eye yet...
Ty was two, I was a big ol' 6.
We lived next door to Nana and Sweet in a quad-plex on Cloverdale between Olympic and Pico near La Brea.
I don't know how many times this happened, but I know it was more than once.
Saturday mornings I'd wake up, and wait, mostly quietly, for Ty to do the same, then he'd start bouncing in his crib.
He would bounce and bounce, and finally, Nana would creep into our room, and pick Ty up out of his bed, and
motion for me to come to her side, and I would race to embrace her around her legs, and then
the three of us would creep out of our apartment across the corridor to hers, to be met by Sweetie, singing in the kitchen.
It always felt like magic time. The TV was always on, and he'd be cooking bacon, and eggs, and toast, or sometimes
pancakes.
He'd serve them up to us while we'd sit on the floor with Mouton and watch Saturday morning "whatever was on".
They were joy. They were exciting. They were beautiful.
They loved us with big, warm hugs, and loud voices, and cheery greetings.
They made us think there was nothing else more important.
We were cute.
At some point we'd be returned to our parents.
Ty would nap.
I would play, quietly (sometimes).
But, I lived for those Saturday mornings, and to this day,
because of our Nana and Sweetie, and that Saturday morning ritual
I am never happier than when I am in the kitchen, on any morning - be it a holiday or weekend - making breakfast for those I love.

a statement of account

I didn't know I'd been "Swimming with Sharks", but I had been.
Now I am working on maintaining my self esteem, my sanity, my stuff.
Here's how it breaks down.
I have cute toes, I just took the time to attend to them.
Haven't done that since before the holidays, funny right, we always,
as women, put ourselves on the back burner,
and I've been really, really depressed.
Now my finger nails are colored as well.
My makeup is almost complete, my aunty used to say "I've put my 'face' on".
It's almost on.
These observations may sound completely random, crazy even, they aren't.
They are "stream of consciousness",
the thoughts that occur as I go about writing the rest of this particular post.
So, with that said, here are my additional attempts at "posting" today.
I cut my own hair today, out of boredom, the need to be creative, and a lack of funds.
It looks passable if I work on it with some product.
Fortunately I have a good face for crazy hairstyles, and the stomach for same.
Further, I have been working toward a specific set of goals in the job search department,
getting a specific number of good resume submissions out the door,
however, truth is I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
This is a problem. It really is.
Save, helpful.
What I want to be is helpful, and self sufficient.
If I can achieve self sufficient then I can be independent.
Independent is freedom to love my boys, and the man I love, the way I want to
without asking permission from anyone, including him.
And, we can only love people if they allow us to.
This was an interesting lesson to learn. Truly.
Back to what else I want... I want to be acknowledged as a participant,
and as a beacon of light and love to those I care deeply about.
I want a job that pays well enough.
I really have only ever wanted to just pay my puny bills,
and have a bit left over to buy treats that entertain.
It isn't so much to ask for, it isn't alot to even strive for.
Well, now I want medical insurance, or at least enough in the funds department to
pay for any necessary medical procedures, chiropractic for instance, dental for another.
Maybe that's my trouble, I don't want "enough", haven't wanted enough,
and as I get a bit older each passing day, I find I actually need more.
I guess I'm not ambitious enough for the mainstream, Macro culture,
that is Los Angeles, California, or even the western United States of America,
and let alone the family that once was.
However, here I sit, typing. I am going to continue.
And, I am going to keep on. That's what I am going to do.

critical mass now achieved

it is time to attend to the me that has gone into hiding, and needs to come back out and face the music.
it is time to care properly for, resurrect, nurture and nourish the wee me, that longs to be...

wowzie!

so here it goes... trying to live my life. One day at a time, trying to keep it interesting not just for me, tho' I guess in the end that's who it should be for, but also for those around me, my love, my sons... I read other people's lives and they seem so much "more" than mine. So much more worth it, so much more interesting, so much more satisfying, so much more scary, you name it their's seems so much "MORE". And, yet mine is awesome... I have two amazing sons, they are, you have no idea. Their drama's are nuttin' honey, they are smart, kind, cute, caring, all a mum could want from one son, and I've got two like that - KRIPES! and the love of my life is "a once in a lifetime event" and that suggests [as my youngest noted] that everyone will encounter as I have a being like him, and they won't, because he IS that amazing... and I am not. And, so I have guilt, what'd I do to deserve these amazing beings? "nuttin' honey" absolutely nuttin', and I feel guilty about that. I feel like I "should" be doing something amazing to justify the incredible good fortune which I actually and currently enjoy. Yet, here I sit... noting that, in fact, I simply exist, and fortunately am aware enough, conscious enough to know just exactly how fortunate I actually am...