'up to my knees now, do i wait? do i dive?'

"Frightened Rabbit - Swim Until You Cant [sic] See Land"

o, to be that proverbial ostrich*

There are times when I really want to live the "ignorance is bliss" kind of lifestyle. Sometimes I just want to keep my head down, go about my daily business (much walking, much book-reading, much child-nurturing) and ignore much of the rest of the world. Generally, I want to believe that most people are good, most people are decent. I think the web does something to people. I know there are things I don't say here because those words could (possibly) reach such a vast audience. Even though I don't use my name here, I strive to keep this a space any person can feel comfortable visiting. However, there seem to be a lot of people who feel no compunction spreading hurtful and hateful words, possibly because they can remain anonymous here. (I've read plenty of articles, posts and comments on the anonymity of the web and the way that plays out. I'm sure, if you're interested, you can find plenty of reading material on the subject. Even without having read any of that, though, I have to wonder if people who are so incredibly mean here in cyberspace would ever really walk into a group of thousands of strangers and spout what they feel so comfortable spouting here. Think about that for a moment.)

I pointed out an instance of this kind of hateful/hurtful speech when I was talking about cloth wipes. I've come across it again, in many, many responses to this article on a desire to create a state militia in Oklahoma to protect against an overarching federal government. (I am trying to word this part neutrally.) I don't want to comment on the article itself, but on the comments. This is again an instance where I believe intelligent conversation and debate could take place, but where that has seemed to have largely failed. I started reading the comments, hoping to understand what others thought of this idea, but fearing that there would be a lot of viciousness. And, viciousness there is.

I did not, by any means, read all of the comments. At the time I'm posting this, there are already 5978 comments and I just cannot read that many. First, I don't have the time. Second, I don't have the stamina, I suppose I'll call it.

I cringe even reading the words "teatard" and "libtard" (I don't believe using words like "retard" and "gay" to represent something undesirable is even slightly okay). In the comments, Democrats and liberals are described more than once as cannibals who will either eat their own young or eat the young of others (I didn't know this "argument" was even being hurled around and I don't understand what is behind it). Obama was referred to, by one commenter, as Sadom Obamma (except, it was all upper-case). All Oklahomans have been grouped together as like-minded and in support of this militia idea by quite a few commenters who seem to think it's okay to call them "crackers," "rednecks" and "inbreeders."

I have to say that I did see some more useful discussion going on also. One commenter asks what the militia will be protecting against and the question does lead to at least some on-topic discussion. Some go so far as to actually quote the Constitution (thanks be, because I have a real problem with people calling on the Constitution without being able to point to a place in the Constitution to back up their arguments). And, I saw a few times people calling on us to vote. I've always kind of liked the argument that you can't complain about what the government does if you don't vote. I also believe, though, that we can all complain or compliment as much as we like, regardless of whether we voted, considering our right to free speech. However, I have to agree with those who would like us to exercise our voting rights before we shoot one another (something discussed by more than one commenter).

I can't write on this anymore. I've already spent an hour reading through comments on that article. (An hour, I know.) I come away from experiences like this disenheartened. I feel sad that there is so much hatred. I like to believe that I'm not that naive, but, at the same time, I try to mainly ignore the hatred that can seem so prevalent. I've been hurt enough by thoughtless, angry, mean actions. I've known of the hurt others have felt enough. I will never understand why some feel the need to be so cruel. I know that this will make me seem like a wide-eyed rosy-shades wearer, but sometimes this is the only way I get by. But, there has to be so much more.

So, I'll end with asking you all: what do we do? How do I get involved in a way that makes me feel like I'm helping and making a positive difference? How do I reach a point where I don't feel like I want to just check out of the human race? How do I reach a point where I don't question having brought a child into a world where such hatred is possible? (I know that I could easily start with not reading these comment threads. Most of the time I don't read them. I wanted what I consider to be real discussion.)

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* According to National Geographic, ostriches do not stick their heads in the sand.

i am no atlas

If the weight of the world were to rest on my shoulders, well, let's just say the world would be rolling around underfoot somewhere.

I'm gearing up for some big changes this year and I'm feeling like I may never sleep again. Right now is one of those times when I really do think that drinking alcohol might be great. I always imagine alcohol as some sort of elixir that calms the fire of anxiety. If not alcohol, perhaps some other soothing substance would be nice right about now. I usually turn to food, especially Ben and Jerry's S'mores ice cream, but I'm trying not to do that right now. This leads to me not at all sleeping and experiencing this restlessness that is so powerful that I cannot sit still for more than a few minutes at a time. I cannot focus on any one thing for more than a few fleeting moments. This is not working for me.

If it weren't freezing and the middle of the night, I'd walk. Alas.

So, here I am, past midnight, semi-coherently and very vaguely, pouring my anxieties into the openness of the ether. I've been pretty good about not doing this as much lately, but, ah, my many woes and self-doubts are pressing on me and it's getting hard to breathe.

I'd like to turn to others for thoughts and advice, but when I feel this way, I always feel that my problems are petty and unworthy of others' attention. But, really, I'd like someone to tell me, "Hey, it's all going to work out. Take it a little at a time. Commit yourself for a short time and evaluate where you are this time next year." Actually, this is what I've been telling myself, but, oh wow, I don't deal well with change.

I hate being so vague, so I'll clue you in a bit on a few of the upcoming changes we'll be experiencing this year:
-- Pic will be entering elementary school
-- we're planning a move
-- I'm needing and wanting a job

When I sit here and think about these things, I feel nauseated. But when I type out the list and read it, I can't help but notice how pathetically tiny the list is. I know that many people are dealing with much more excruciating problems, but I'm not living in their heads, I'm trapped in my own.

So, now that I've gushed on for a few minutes here, I'll return to my previous task. In the morning, I'll wake up and think about this post and think, as I always do after these kinds of posts, "Geez, I'm such a drama-monger. Things don't look quite so scary here in the daylight, on the other side of four or five hours of sleep." Geez, I need to get to bed.

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I've always wondered about that Atlas image. What is Atlas standing on? What if Atlas did shrug? (And who is John Galt?) I'm trying to meld the mythical explanation with the scientific one and it's not working for me.

sundaes for breakfast, anyone?

Okay, so it's a quinoa sundae, but still.... Actually, this is also what I had for dinner last night, but the avocado from last night was somewhat questionable. Obviously I lived to eat another delicious quinoa sundae. (I made the quinoa with vegetable broth. I like the flavor so much better than when I make it with water. I tried it as breakfast cereal once, made with water not broth, with some milk and blueberries, but I wasn't so into it. I hope that wasn't confusing.)

I got the recipe idea here, but I only use black beans, quinoa, avocado and cheese. I like the queso fresco casero better than any other cheese I've tried on this, but we don't always have it on hand. Oh, I just looked at Catherine Newman's recipe again. Yeah, mine's not nearly as involved, but her recipe was definitely inspiring.

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So, decluttering? First, I have to say, we went to the library booksale, for the $6/bag day and got 35 new (to us) kids' books and four movies for $12! We so had room for more in our second bag, but we were ready to go. And? All of those new books have already been catalogued! (Now, I just have to catch up on the many, many already floating around the apartment, but I've been working on it somewhat diligently these last few days.)

So, yes, I'm bringing more stuff into the apartment, but I just keep in mind that I have allowed myself a couple of collections, one of which is books.

In the meantime, I've begun to look again at our office/library (I really need a better term for this, I'm just so excited to have a place that really feels like a library in our home, albeit a completely messy library). And, oh the treasures I've found! Decluttering should be a snap (or a cinch? what's the cliche?) for the remainder of my thirty-day time limit. In fact, I'll, no doubt, be able to continue on with this one thing a day deal for a bit longer.

Today's decluttering item? A big old bag of trash that lived in my car for, um, two-plus years. Okay, so I didn't really carry a bag of trash with me for two years, although I wouldn't put it past me, but when we sold the car, I shoved all of the detritus in a trash bag and then, apparently, shoved that into the office closet. I began looking through it today and some stuff was salvageable: a couple of pencils, my umbrella, a picture of Pic from when she first started school (oh how I miss it and don't all at the same time). Otherwise? Mainly trash or shredder fodder: insurance cards and registration cards dating back at least two years, a broken visor, power bill receipts dating back at least two years, a random booklet that had been completely soaked at one point but that had since dried to brittleness (I say it's a word). Oh, yes, basically a big old bag of trash. Nothing to be given away today, but I'm definitely breathing a little easier having gotten rid of all of that crap.



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P.S. As if I need more stuff to bring into the apartment...Tomorrow is the Savers 50%-off clothing, shoes and accessories sale.

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P.P.S. I'm sure that this Veteran's Day will be especially emotional for many. I know that I spent much of this morning, listening to the memorial service, in tears of sympathy for those affected by the violence at Fort Hood and a kind of sadness that violence happens at all.

wanting: one tooth faerie

Cardo and I went to have our teeth cleaned today. Cardo had one tiny cavity. *I* the lucky ducky, however, am in need of one crown (to match the one on the other side), three extractons (goodbye 'wisdom' teeth) and an unspecified number of fillings. Sometimes I wonder why I bother to brush and use the waterflosser.

In related nonnews, Cardo slathered his toothbrush in triple antibiotic ointment this morning. Lucky for him, he realized this just before he started to brush.

the mean reds...

...again, I know.

Today has been something of a blah day. Actually, I guess the entire day hasn't been so bad, it just feels like it has at this point. I couldn't sleep last night (big shock, yes, I know), so it feels like pretty much the moment I did manage to get to sleep, it was time to get up and take Cardo to work. Pic and I had some errands today, so we preferred access to the car. I'm sure, though, that my overall funk has to do with too little sleep, too much stress and a definite need for a break.

I know that there are people who would think, 'What exactly do you need a break from?' (or, even, 'From what exactly do you need a break?' if you want to have fancy syntax that really makes no difference, but which still haunts me). I need a break from constant Mamma-Pic time. I love it, I cherish it, I'm happy and grateful that I have, it, but sometimes Pic and I just need our space from one another. And, it doesn't matter that I know this and that I believe it to be healthy and normal (taking a break from the person I spend ALL of my waking hours with), I still feel guilty and sucky about it. And, it doesn't help that when I'm this far sunk in my funk (ha!), and I try to talk to Cardo about it, he just doesn't get it. At all. And how can I expect him to? He's never been the one to be at home because, hello, we need money for things like rent and food. But I was just so irked tonight by the way he seemed so dismissive of my frustration, of my restlessness. It was kind of like, 'Sorry. But if things work out, you'll be spending all of your time with her anyway.' Which just isn't true. I'll be somewhere with people my own age a few times a week while she'll be elsewhere with people her own age a few times a week. That, it seems obvious to me, is different.

Anyhow, I can't expend any more energy on this right now. I'm the one who's made my choices. No one forced me to do things this way. And, overall, I'm happy. I just currently happen to be happy in a burnt-out kind of way.

All of that, I needed to get out, but I also felt I needed to set up the general state of mean-redness to somehow justify the amount of tv watching that went on here today because that has to do with the rest of what I wanted to share.

After Pic and I went to gather Cardo from work, she wanted to go swimming. I was not in the mood (at freaking all...I just wanted to sleep), so I asked Cardo if he'd feel comfortable taking her on his own. He wasn't. He's not a swimmer and I understand that he doesn't want to risk anything happening. So, we all suited up, Pic tucked into her floaties, and went to the pool where I never put more than my feet in.

One of our neighbors, who adores kids, was there. He was asking Pic what her favorite show was. 'Is it SpongeBob?' She shook her head, 'no.' We are not a SpongeBob watching household. Then, he asked her, 'Is it iCarly.' Again, with the headshake. Okay, so we're neither a Nickelodeon nor a Disney Channel household. Partly because we don't have those channels anymore (since December, we've had about four channels), but mainly because most shows I've come across on those channels annoy me. 'I like PBS Kids,' she told him, 'They have Dinosaur Train. It's going to start next month.' She's been very excited about this upcoming show.

Pic and I are both pretty enamored of PBS Kids. Actually, we both also like PBS Kids Go (the children's programing in the afternoon). I feel lucky that we have so many shows available, and I love the set-up: preschool/early grade school programing in the mornings and shows for older kids in the afternoons. I've been very into Sid the Science Kid lately. I'd have to say that Pic's current favorite is either Super WHY! or Word Girl (apparently she has a thing for superheros). So, yes, about all the tv today. We watched part of Sid the Science Kid, then Super WHY!, Clifford the Big Red Dog and, finally (I know) part of Sesame Street (until Elmo's World came on and it was time for us to go...except, she later watched an episode of Elmo's World on a DVD that was gifted to Pic). Ugh. If we don't get back to what I consider a normal schedule (school for the both of us) soon, we're close to becoming a pair of Helen Sharps, obsessively watching tv while using our fingers to eat frosting from plastic containers.

cutting back

During a recent storytime, I found out just how bad things are getting for the local library. I knew that several branches and the mobile library would be closed, but I didn’t know how badly my library (I feel very possessive of it) would be affected. It turns out that we are losing two days of library operation and Family Nights. Two days! (That’s an incredulous, not a happy exclamation point, certo.)

We also just found out that a friend’s mom has been laid off. My own parents have been worrying about the state of their jobs. We have a friend who is conducting a multi-state job search. I myself am, once again, unemployed and worrying about long-term job-having.

Because I’m trying to hold onto this ignorance-is-bliss stance, I’m trying not to think too much about all of this (although, I’m obviously not doing that great of a job, right?), I’ll sum this up with one word: UGH.

bleak times ahead

I find this...disheartening. Not that this is news to me. Yet, I still want to go on. Why?

building a wall

Sometimes, I feel like the world I so often inhabit, this brick-towered space, only exists to beat me down. Only exists to point out how incredibly inept and unworthy I am of wondering the halls.

I know that anyone who has been a part of my life or blog for at least the last few months knows this about me already, but it's hitting me pretty hard right now.

Today, I received a note that I'm sure was meant as helpful but I read as...degrading? I'm not sure how to put it. I read it and felt, 'Wow. I suck. I quit. I don't want to do this anymore and I'm obviously not good enough to be here.' It started me thinking about the work that I've done in the last (almost) three-and-a-half years and wondering, 'Was any of it really good?' I can't answer that affirmatively. There are so many parts of what I do that I feel like I'm constantly relearning, unlearning, retraining myself to do. I've spread myself so thin and not often enough (or, ever?) let myself come back together as a whole, that I'm reaching a breaking point.

'Why do I choose to stay somewhere that makes me doubt myself so much, makes me feel so low?' I wonder. This is what I know and what I think I usually love. But, is this a healthy choice for me? There have been times when this has almost killed me in many ways and I just want out right now before I slip back there again.

I know that I only have about six or seven weeks left, but can I make it those six or seven weeks? Do I want to?

I think that the answer to both of those questions is 'Yes,' but I wish I knew and didn't just think.

I think that this is a time when I need to ask for help, see if I can lighten my load a bit, but I suck at asking for help. I'm not sure where I filled myself up with belief that I must be so self-sufficient, but I'd like to go back and drop off this unneeded baggage.

Sometimes, in my writing, I allow myself to get so bogged down in the horrible negativity (as in, um, now), but this is how I release. I think, though, this might not be helping so much at this time, so I'm taking a hiatus on writing about this vague craptastic topic. I'm going to try to detach myself a lot, for the next six or seven weeks, from everything having to do with area of my life. I'm not new at this shutting a part of myself off experiment and I just hope that the barricade holds until I can tear it down.

desperation

I may one day be desperate for a job, but, please, let me never be this desperate:

I have lots of painful hair removal experience. I've even been a training model for estheticians who have never performed a bikini wax.

(From a review of an epilator. Don't even ask why I'm reading it. I'm awake, that's why.)

despayre

Who needs a normalized system of spelling anyway?

Anyhow, wow, I think it might be in large part due to the lack of sleep, but I'm having some sort of weird lethargic panic attack. I can't explain it. It's slow-mo or something. I can feel myself tensing up and freaking out and I don't know what to do about it.

I feel like I've reached the end of a diving board in my life and I have no idea if there is a pool full of water (or something soft, like marshmallow fluff) beneath me. I kind of feel like I'm six again and people are going to start asking me, 'What do you want to do when you grow up?' I have no idea. Actually, that's not true. I have plenty of ideas. The problem lies in me needing to be gainfully employed (as in I need to eventually make some money so that Cardo can have a little space to maneuver in his own career). So, yes, I have ideas and I have ideals, but I have no solidly-formed ideas (I can't think of any other way to phrase that right now) about how I'm going to reach a point where I'll be happy and earning a decent paycheck.

My whole life, so far, has pretty much been school. I've always just kind of moved on to the next step without giving much thought to what I was doing. So, apparently I'm full of sweet little lies this morn, because I doubt I've ever done anything without giving whatever it is much thought. What I really mean is that I didn't stretch myself, I just stuck with what was easy and/or safe. However, that is no longer an option. I'm being forced to make some major changes -- and I mean that 'forced' not in some violent way, but I've reached the end of what I can do here. I'm not one who's comfortable with change so you can surmise how I am with MAJOR change. Meltdowny, insomnia-plagued, randomly bursting-into-tearness = my state. No matter how much I keep telling myself that I only have two months left until this enormous current pressure eases up considerably. And, anyhow, I keep switching back and forth between 'one day at a time' (or 'inch by inch') and 'let's paint a great big mural and look at that.'

I always get antsy at this point in the semester. You'd think I'd have some kind of a handle on this by now. I'm only in my eight-billionth semester here. I always want assurances. I want to know that I'll come out of this successfully, but there is no knowing that. I want to not be seen. I want the pressure of others' gazes to not be squashing me into the ground. However, there is no way to finish up this part of my journey (or whatever) without others being aware of most of the moves I make. I hate this kind of scrutiny. So, perhaps this would be a good time to hold off on any 'How's it going?'s and 'How are you?'s. Unless, however, you don't mind mumbled responses of insincere 'Fine's or not-quite-held-back tears.

And, geez, who is it that allows me to post stuff in the middle of the dark (the dark of the night and the dark of my soul...I've been reading too many sonnets)? I don't drink, so there'll never be any drunk-blogging, but there is plenty of blues-blogging. My apologies.

I just need to remind myself that I make everything harder than it really is. I've been doing most of the stuff I'm faced with for so long that I should be able to do some of it in my sleep (should I happen to get any). I also need to remember that there's a whole lot more world out there, outside of the ivy-covered brick.

Also, and above all: I need sleep. So, buona notte.

7-up and twizzlers

The weather is pretty freaking nice right now. Pic and I just took a little walk to the mailroom and I'm thinking we'll try walking to the library later. We'll see. This is the kind of weather that makes me restless. Not only do I want to get outside and walk and play, I want to go somewhere new. I don't know where I got this constant yearning, but it's been with me for as long as I can remember.

I think that when the weather starts to warm and we restart our family walks, Cardo braces himself. As we walk down the tree-lined streets, I look at the houses and wonder what life is like inside.

'I want a house,' is my springtime and summertime refrain. (Oh, wait, that actually bleeds into autumn, also, when it's still warm enough to go for our walks.) Cardo wants a house also. However, I'm not so sure that he appreciates me constantly reminding him that I want what we can't have. It's like I have no mute button for this phrase, though. I want a house.

However, all of this wanting amounts to, well, nothing at all. We just aren't ready to buy a house. Buying a house would mean settling down and I'm not yet ready to do that. I'm getting ready to begin the next five-year stage of Get v a Career. There are plenty of other reasons we're not yet ready for a house. One has to do with that career I was just mentioning, because, hi, I have no career and, come mid-May, I'll no longer even have a job (not the paying kind...unless someone wants to pay me to raise this awesome kidlet I've spawned? no? no takers?). Even if I were to continue at my current rate of pay, we'd never be able to afford a house. Anyhow, I'm much more interested in not attempting to lead us up a mountain of insurmountable debt than I am in getting a house...most days. And just finding a new line of work? Hello again, I am qualified for absolutely nothing. I have just about no skills (and no skillz).

So, for now, I'll be content with what we have. I have no idea why I feel like I need more anyway. Our apartment is certainly big enough for our family. We live in a nice part of town, with a library and several parks within walking distance. If the refrigerator breaks, we call the office and they take care of it, we don't have to go out and buy a new one. We've got access to not one but two pools. We like it here.

Even after all of that, though, I want a house.

she's going the distance

At least, that's the plan. I had a minor freak-out this weekend (one I'm sure I'll have many more weekends and weekdays): What if my parents come up here in May for no reason? What if not everything goes as planned?

It's funny, because at the same time that my brain won't turn off (as I'd like it to do when it turns to the above topics), it also wouldn't seem to turn on this weekend. I have been so useless since right after I taught on Friday. Cardo and I ran a few errands and, after that, I don't remember much of this weekend. I know that I got almost all of the laundry finished (there are still a few items in the dryer and they'll have to stay there until after school). I washed the dishes today and I actually made dinner for me and Pic (oatmeal, but I still think it counts). Mostly, though, I remember sleeping. I took a four-hour-long nap on Friday (which might not count as a nap considering I had only gotten about three hours of sleep before I faced Friday). I slept late on both Saturday and yesterday mornings. I've barely been able to stay awake, it seems. I've gotten not much at all accomplished, which is so incredibly not good at this point. I think I ate like crap, but I can barely remember what I ate (except, I know that I ate a ridiculous amount of cookies one of the days). I didn't exercise at all on Friday or Saturday, which exacerbated my lethargy and my overall feeling of funkiness.

I'm burnt out. But, wait! I can't be burnt out. We aren't even half-way through this semester. This has to be temporary.

So, I got off my lazy rear and did some pilates in the living room (I'm sure the people across the way love watching this) while Pic chased one of the covert cats around with a balloon from Trader Joe's. I also later did some arm work, and let me tell you, I should have much better arm muscles, I think, after carrying around either fifty pounds worth of school crap or a thirty-pound child all of the time. Why are my arms so weak? Hmm. I got all of the reading for two of my classes finished (one I'm taking and one I'm teaching). I've done most of my planning for most of the week. I'm still behind, but I am confident that I'll catch up (at least enough). I'm so very much needing next week and spring break (and I'd really like my 'spring' ahead hour back, please). I foresee long, long days of reading and playing catch-up (not to be confused with either catsup or ketchup).

So, I think I might have kicked my ennui back to the recesses of my mind, for now. I'm looking forward to the Ides of May like a feend.

awake...and now nauseated

I'm having a hard time responding to an assignment I gave my students. I need to go back and give more instruction. They need to go back and read instructions. /deep sigh/

Anyhow, here I am. I just read this blog post. The first ad (the Burger King one)...I hate. First of all, just the name 'Burger Shots' makes me want to hurl. Blech. On a more serious note, this commercial reminds me of those Axe body spray commercials where incredibly (standardly) good-looking women become mindless idiots when on the same continent as a man wearing the body spray.

I love Tringali's response to the Burger King ad [obviously, it helps if you watch the ad -- it's embedded in that post]:

Where do I even begin? Let’s start with the idea that women are so baby-obsessed that they think everything small is a baby. Which leads us to the even weirder idea that when women think they are in the presence of a baby, they make orgasm sounds and want to do whoever is holding said baby/small thing/BK burger shot. But what offends me most is the assumption that hamburgers are so alien to women that they don’t even know you’re supposed to eat them.

Some days, things like this ad bother me more than other days. This seems to be one of the first type of days.

affirmations

I am a lone reed. I am Jack's medulla oblongata. I am a work in progress.

Okay, so that last one's the one. I am constantly reminding myself what a friend so adamantly told me the other day, 'I am a work in progress.' It's so hard to really accept this when so much of the future is so uncertain, though. I want to know things for sure. I want assurances, people, and I want them now (and possibly a goose to lay a golden egg). Everything I do seems, to me, to be so end-all, so important. I let myself get so wrapped up in my own little, tiny dramas and freak myself out.

This semester makes me nervous. There are so many stupid little 'what ifs.' I'm not a fan of these. And, yes, I know that one day, years from now, these nights of sleeplessness will be but vague memories and I'll shake my head wearily at the stress I put myself through (this is what I do for fun: stress) and not understand why. There are brief moments of clarity when I know that things will be resolved in some fashion and it'll all be over and life will go on in some sense (or, at least, this is what I let myself believe at times). But...what if it doesn't? Huh? What then?

Wait! Nevermind, that thought does not compute. Really, I don't want to think about it. The people on my committee have known me for at least two years and I'm pretty sure they want to see me succeed (or, at least see me be able to get the crap out).

So, in order to keep the panic at bay, I've been given some other advice recently:



Also, Coach J's post resonated with me today. That song always gets me.

coming up for air...and grapes

I am so woefully behind in my reading. Okay, so I was behind from the first second of this semester, or so I feel, yet this is not a consoling thought. I keep having to remind myself that three-and-a-half months from now, this constriction in every part of my body might let up a wee smidge.

I have been frantically reading for several hours now. Well, reading and being a mamma and a wife and an everything else. After I gave Pic her bath, brushed her teeth, helped her on with her pajamas and put her to bed, she called me in to read her a story. I, being the frantic, frazzled freak that I am, went in and told her, 'Okay, but this is the last time I'm coming in here tonight, unless there's an emergency, like you're bleeding or your legs falls off.' (Yeah, I know, thanks for the nightmare-fodder, mamma.) So, I read her The Berenstain Bears Tell the Truth and then I left her to wind down so I could retreat to my cave and fall back into Renaissance Self-Fashioning. But then, she didn't ask me to come back in once, just as I'd asked of her. This would be nice -- hey, thanks for following my crabby directives, kid -- but she didn't call me in to sing "ABCs" and "Twinkle, Twinkle." This is our nightly ritual and has been for years (holy crap-on-a-stick, I can use the term 'years' in talking about rituals I perform with my daughter). But, tonight, she just went to sleep, cuddled in her covers, her light on and a book open under it. It's not like we've never missed our ritual before (there were those four non-consecutive nights when I've been out of town without her), but I'm still sad. There have been other times when Cardo's sung to her, but she didn't call for him tonight either. There have been other nights when she's fallen asleep and not asked me to sing to her, but tonight just feels different, worse (this is probably how I feel on all of those occasions and I've just forgotten this).

I don't want her to feel alone and I don't want her to feel like she's a distant second to my school work. However, tonight, I was more focused on my school stuff. In the grand scheme, my family is first and, honestly, it's probably really Pic first and then Cardo. However, in the everyday workings of things, there are things that I feel I have to get accomplished and Pic has to entertain herself. I don't think this would bother me as much if I were at a job outside of my home and she was being taken care of by someone else (Cardo, her teachers, whoever), but being at home with her and pretty much ignoring her makes me feel like Craptastic Mamma. I don't know where I picked up this heavy, heavy guilt, but I'd like to offload a good portion of it, please. I think that, in general, Pic is happy. I think that I take pretty good care of her. I think that this semester won't last forever (but, really, maybe it will, because there will always, always be another one in my grand life-plan).

Ah, well, I don't even have cry here any longer because As You Like It awaits my scholarly gaze.

not-so-glorious food

I have eaten like a total out-of-control person today. I started out okay with tuna, olive oil, oregano, Italian seasoning and plenty of chopped spinach served on wheat crackers (I'm not a traditional-breakfast-foods person). However, after that, the rest of my eating was shot. I've had two kaiser rolls, two turkey meatballs, some baked steak fries (technically, then, not 'fries' but, I suppose, baked potato wedges), a cookie and some ice cream throughout the day. My body is ready to kick me (herself?). Yeah, vegetables and fruits? Apparently not much of a priority for me today. Sometimes I get like this...I'll eat something crappy and then just eat crappily for the rest of the day. Ugh.

This makes me think, of course, of things like my horribly negative body image. (Self-fulfilling prophecy, anyone?) Every time I think about things like this, I wonder how to not pass this set of neuroses on to Pic. How can I not? Even if I insist that every body is beautiful, just about every other source of information about bodies is telling us othewise. We went to the store tonight and there were these Barbie fairy things that were like freaking twigs [I can't find a picture of these, sorry]. Then, of course, we passed the Barbies and by the time we reached the end of the aisle, we had reached the Bratz dolls. Um, and Disney princesses -- I almost forgot them. Then, there are the images of popular women splashed across the covers of all of the magazines, including some women who used to be more average-sized but who have become emaciated over the years (except their thinness is due to something other than lack of access to nutritional foods and plenty of access to ravaging disease). All that and my very own negative body image. It's not like she'll never pick up on that, right? Don't kids sense things that we think we are hiding oh-so-well? She's picked up on funkiness in our supposed-to-be marital bliss before when she was just a wee(er) lass.

Anyhow, this brings me to two other observations, both media related.

One is Gilmore Girls. I love Gilmore Girls, but I've always hated that these women (mother and daughter, sixteen years apart) eat worse than anyone else ever (except, perhaps, Michael Phelps) and they shun exercise, yet they are both incredibly thin women. What is up with that?

The other: The Women. I watched the 1939 version, which I thought was okay. Then, against the reviews of others, I watched the newer version (because I clearly like wasting my time). At one point, Mary's (Meg Ryan's character) ten-year-old daughter refuses to eat something because it'll cost too many points. As in Weight Watchers points. She declares herself fat. She's a thin little wisp of a girl. While she's told she's not fat (if I recall correctly), no one ever deals with this. This movie was such a disappointment for so many reasons, this being just a small one. (Like, what was up with the [SPOILER ALERT] baby at the end of the movie being a boy and then being passed from hand to hand across a backdrop of a wall painted sky-blue with clouds? Weird savior images abound.) Anyhow, don't watch it. Spare yourself.

Okay, well, so much more can be said about this, but I need to finish reading an article (forthcoming chapter?) on Michel Montaigne's anti-ethnocentrism (which I promptly looked up) and then read Twelfth Night and then read The Tempest and then read part of Stephen Greenblatt's Marvelous Possessions and then read.... (I really want to read Harry Potter again). Please send me some positive vibes (yes, I did just use that phrase) that I make it out of this semester alive...definitely not OD'd on ice cream. Thanks.

the beginnings of a panic attack

Okay, so yesterday was my first real day back. I don't have any school activities scheduled for Tuesdays so I got a late start this week. (This also means that my Monday class doesn't start until next week and somehow this makes me feel like I'm behind.)

Yesterday, I met with Dr Chair. (Still needs a better pseudonym, no? Dr Syrah? Dr Sirrah? I'll think about it.) Just before that, I met with Dr Jones. On top of taking two seminars and teaching one class, I'm also completing my final MA project. Most people know this as the comps process, but I'm designing a course. I'm going for something like English Renaissance Literature: Sex in the Renaissance (thanks for the suggestion from Dr Syrah). I also have an apartment, a husband, some covert cats and a very-soon-to-be four-year-old (which means birthday party planning). I've restarted regular Pilates workouts and Cardo and I are planning to join the climbing gym February 1st. In order to use our membership wisely, we'll need to go at least three times a week.

Okay, this may not seem like much -- the list is long, but these are normal things -- but yesterday, things got added to this list. Both Dr Jones and a friend informed me of impending Renaissance Mafia meetings. We are planning to meet once a week to discuss the larger issues regarding English Renaissance literature (it's so easy to get bogged down in the minutia of the texts that we are looking for that good ol' Ren forest here). Also, Blood, Love and Rhetoric is scheduled to start up again this semester. I told Dr Syrah that I would be interested in organizing one, but he said that he'd be perfectly okay to do it this semester (very nice). We're planning four plays, but I'll have to report back later on what these are (I can only recall Merry Wives of Windsor and The Devil Is an Ass (which I think we already did)). Dr Syrah also said he was thinking to initiate a Renaissance film night (films of productions of Renaissance plays and such...obviously not films from the English Renaissance...just thought I'd clear that up). I might be able to squeeze one of those in (especially if I bring a book and a book light). Finally, a friend (who will remain nameless unless she cares to identify herself*), suggested a knitting/crocheting group. I'd really like to learn either of these skills, and both would be great. It'd be nice to be able to do either of these while I watched tv (y'know, when I can begin doing that again in earnest after this semester is over), instead of reading while watching tv which makes concentrating on either medium difficult.

Oh, and Cardo will be taking a class this semester also. He's finally beginning to take some automotive classes, which he's wanted to do for quite some time now.

I joked to Ms B yesterday, after class, that if I can just make it through the next four months without sleeping, I'll take a nice long nap this summer.

So, to totally bastardize a prayer I've known my whole life:

Grant me the serenity to make it through this semester without melting down,
Grant me the courage to make it through this semester with some confidence,
And grant me the wisdom to earn a freaking Master's degree.

It's going to be a long one, baby.

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* I'm only not identifying this person because she was convinced that we were going to laugh at her suggestion. I think it's a great suggestion, but just in case, I'll let her choose whether or not to out herself.

i see me, and i like what i see

That line does not apply to myself. I just like Death Becomes Her. Besides, my dad's in it.

I was talking with a friend about aging with grace and I wonder if I will be able to do this. I started thinking about it again because of this momversation (still not a fan of the title).



Where do I draw the line? I don't color my hair now. The greys hide in the rest, for now. I've had it highlighted twice, but it's been almost six years. I have this weird superstition that if I ever dye it completely, it'll never grow back the same color and I actually like my hair color. I don't do Botox or anything like that (I doubt that will change because the thought of injecting something into my face freaks me right out). Hell, I don't even pluck my eyebrows (now you'll all be staring at my unruly brows, won't you?). I do wear make-up. I have been wearing it for about a year now. I wear Bare Minerals foundation stuff. (Soon, it'll be a much more affordable drugstore brand, but I'm still using my first little pot of Bare Minerals.) I occasionally get my hair cut and this alters my appearance, of course. I own this Olay eye gel stuff, but I only used it about seven times and that was last summer. I try to wear clothes that hide my flaws, but I'm not so good at this.

I'm just afraid that I will freak out as I age. It's not like we have a lot of examples of women aging naturally. Images of older women are constantly touched up. (We recently saw a billboard with Donna Sommer, who's in her sixties, and she looked about thirty. Look at any other older woman in the media and the results are about the same or same-ish.) And, how much of this surgical upkeep can you do before your body just says, 'Hey, I'm getting older, let me do my thing'? The whole thing reeks of The Picture of Dorian Gray in a way that I can't fully fathom.

And, I just feel that it's not fair. Our bodies are supposed to age. We lose color, we get wrinkles. It's like proof that we've lived, that we're actually people with pasts. I have a hard time with all of this growing up stuff, but I've never wanted to be young forever (I am still young, so ask me about this in another few decades). I think it's freaky for women to want to look exactly like their teenage daughters.

I actually like the lines on my face. I'm attempting to continue to like them. (I can't believe that I'm admitting to you, Interweb, that there are parts of me that I like.) I hope that I will be able to embrace the aging process, but I doubt that that will happen. We need some good role models for this. Okay, enough for now, because I'm starting to miss my Grammie who had grey hair and wrinkles for as long as I knew her and she was beautiful. I'll keep her in mind.

Still, I wonder what tune I'll be humming ten, twenty, thirty-plus years from now?

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P.S. I wrote most of this post in previous days. In the meantime, Ms J has posted about a recent body affirming experience (sorry that sounds so new agey, I'm just tired). It's a good post, read it. Let the feeling rub off on you.

gli occhiali

Okay, so I made the trip all the way over to Costco today where the best eye doctor ever holds court (or something). I had a quick eye exam. He showed me the difference between my old prescription and my new. If my eyes keep going at this rate, I'll be counting steps (more than I do) and memorizing people's scents in a matter of mere years. Ugh.

I actually made Cardo come with me for the picking out of the frames, though. I found some I really liked -- thin, purple wire frames for which I could have gotten magnetic clip on sunglasses (have I mentioned my ultracool rep? have I mentioned that my eyes are extrememly light sensitive?), but then I remembered my lenses are today's equivalent of coke-bottle lenses. I can't get the thin wire frames. Actually, I might be able to, but the lenses are about seventy-nine million times the thickness of the frames. Even when I get the thick plastic frames my lenses bulge out over the sides. Again, ugh. So, I picked a pair of green plastic frames with which I'm kind of okay. My choices are even further limited because of my gigantic head. Seriously, people.

Now, I just have to wait two weeks for my glasses to come in. The cashier looked incredibly apologetic when she told me this, but I told her I was used to it. I'm not one of those people who can order glasses or contacts and pick them up immediately. They have to specially make my corrective lenses in far-flung reaches of the world...like Ireland.

I was looking at the package for my contacts and it was stamped 'Made in Ireland.' Kind of like various parts of me. You could tell because of my accent, right. (That'd be funnier -- maybe not funny, but funnier -- if you could hear me, no?) Once, when I was in sixth grade, I was waiting for the bus and the woman sitting next to me asked, 'Are you Irish?' When I answered in the affirmative, she told me, 'I could tell because of your accent.' By the way, not a hint of Irish accent escapes my lips, even when I try.

So, about my Irish parts (heh, the term 'lady parts' immediately comes to mind, but please direct your mind's eye back to the more PG body parts now that I have distracted you). I have green eyes! Who would have guessed? Maybe other people, but I have this habit of not looking too closely at myself. When I wear my glasses, which is most of the time, I don't notice my eyes. Now that I've been wearing my contacts for a couple of days, I've remembered that I have actual eyes under all of that plastic lens. And, because my poor, poor glasses suck right now, I've had to keep my contacts in way past the point of my eyes being comfortable which means I no longer have whites of my eyes, rather I have reds of my eyes. And the red offsets the green. I have weird demony eyes right now. Send over your young and I'll fill their heads with nightmares. Or, you know, don't.

Well, while I'm sure you think the subject of my glasses and completely bloodshot eyes is beyond fascinating (so far beyond that it's just really not, right?), I have to go read some more. And then some more and more after that.