Since the real goal was fiction

Liz looked straight ahead as she walked the sidewalk towards Mt. Vernon Avenue. The night was bitter, and the wind was lonesome. She felt as if she had been walking in the cold for ages. Had it only been an hour? She was always walking on this dark, cold night. It was quiet. Few cars passed. It must have been a dream. The struggle, the screaming (was that her?), the knife, the blood. She was going to prison. She knew it. They'd catch her. She tried to think of a story. She tried to imagine hiding away, creating an alibi. Who could she trust? An owl swooped ahead of her leaving a giant oak for a smaller undefined tree. She watched its thick body rise back up in the air. She had never seen an owl in town before. What would prison be like. She was already steeling herself for the beatings, for being someone's bitch. The word made her cringe. They were going to eat her alive. But she'd take it. She'd get by. In the end, almost anything is bearable, she thought. Oh why, had she picked up the knife? Why had she opened her door? Her heart? She knew better, she knew. The lights of Mt. Vernon were shining down on her. She kept walking straight. She'd keep walking until some closure was found. There was nothing else to do. 

A cold night

I am so proud of myself. After doing 14 minutes of a 17 minutes ab workout, I invited Tierney out for a walk. Liam had been tucked in, and Gabe was about to sleep in his swing (Taryn and Caleb were home). We went on a 25 minute walk or so. It was cold, the wind blew our backsides all the way to our turnaround spot, and then it froze our cheeks pinker than pink on the way home. I was so happy walk inside and feel everything come back to life. Who knew my lips could be so numb from cold, and then slowly tingle awake again? Tomorrow is the first day of winter, and I am delighted. 

What do you do?

When those words bite? When you notice each slight? When nothing feels right?
I didn't intend for this to rhyme. But frankly, I think it's rather sublime.

Outside the storm is beginning her show.
Where do I belong, I want to know.

I am middle aged and settled now, and yet, I haven't become me, I don't know how.

Liam is about to cry, lightning and rain, I'll get him. Sigh.





Enjoy your Wednesday. It's never as bad as the words that I paint. Melodrama is not for the faint.
I am having some fun, but I have to run.

Liam will not sleep with a storm raging about, a good night's rest, I'll do without.

A Day in a Middle School

Yesterday I had the delight of finding an afternoon job at Cherokee. Substituting at Cherokee is truly a pleasure; the students are so well behaved. Although they were seventh graders and it is the week before Christmas break, they were still much easier than some other places I have been. The very worst was a boy who tossed a dictionary playfully at a friend. Quickly the kids around him told me goodnaturedly, he should have to fill out a clipboard. I don't have a clue what the clipboard is, so I just left a note for his teacher. Our class assignment in language arts was the oral reading of a play of The Christmas Carol. And for the most part, it went very well. One class was a little chatty and all the classes just hooted when Fezziwig had to say the name Dick several times. Even I had to giggle a little at the pleasure seventh graders get from such things. When I thought about going into education, I thought about the poor students, the struggling, the ones who were in danger of not seeing what they were capable of. But I must say, there is a real pleasure to be with students who follow the rules, students who enjoy learning (or at least don't question it), and students who are eager to even read aloud. I was so happy that when we followed up reading  a play of Oliver Twist in the last period reading class, I briefly related the book to the plight of the orphan, Jane Eyre, and several girls nodded and smiled. They had read the book, too. What a joy!

The World is Sad

Is anything new? Since the dawn of time, people have hurt others. Sometimes (as in war) we believe it's justified. Other times, as in mass killings of innocents, we are mystified. But I can't stand the hate. First thing on my list, was the libertarians suggesting that at the least this will be used to ban guns, at the most, it was orchestrated by the government to ban guns. Do they really think their assault rifles are strong enough to protect them if the government comes knocking?

Then we look at the killer. What was wrong with him? I have heard mental illness and autism used interchangeably in this case, which literally makes me sick. Our society is not only remarkably violent, we are also extremely ignorant.

I have heard people blame the mother. She shouldn't have taught him to shoot (really? Why don't you not teach YOUR kids to shoot and not worry about other people's kids). This is especially funny coming from the right wing gun lovers. And I have heard she should have kept her guns locked up. Do you really think any  amount of keys and combinations would keep him from the guns at that point? Do you think an adult mother could hold off her grown son?

We hate the killer. Of course. At Columbine, one could almost understand. No, it was horrible and evil, but bullied children are hurt terribly. And teachers cannot protect kids from bullying. No tolerance helps, but many teachers were on the "upside" of social life, and they don't understand the pain. But there is absolutely no way to justify going somewhere you haven't been in years to kill people who are incapable of doing harm to you. But when people start calling other people "losers", I can't help but feel a little sympathy. When the man shot up the  movie theatre, he was described a loser and someone who couldn't make it in his profession (there are NOT ENOUGH jobs, even for people with technical/science degrees-don't believe the hype). And then someone described this person as a loser. And I wonder about all those on the edge. The boys who cry themselves to sleep because their "scrawny ass" as one person described this young man, got shoved around in the locker. What does it feel like to be 20 and realize you are no closer to persuading a girl to have sex with you, than you were at 10?
But I guarantee there are young men out there who identify with this man, and neither exalting nor denigrating him is going to make them healthier.
Of course, I think he is where he should be (I believe he is weeping at God's feet now for the horror he's inflicted-I believe we create our own Hell, once our eyes are opened).

There is no answer. We are animals, bent on raising up our own, and securing their way in life. Make fun of skinny Bobby in the corner? Maybe that'll keep him from being competition for that high paying job. Turn your nose up at the poor kid's family, rather than teaching your child to open up and befriend others. Maybe that will keep her from having the self-esteem to compete for boys and scholarships. I don't know. I may be wrong. But being mean is never right.

Holy Crap! I completely overlooked the religious nuts who think that praying in schools would solve this. Really? Why don't you look up violence and shooting in churches? These are the same people who insist that kids aren't allowed to pray in school (they are). Being Christian does not you have to be dishonest or spread untruths. In fact, it actually probably means you shouldn't. I want to believe in God. I want to believe in everlasting life. Why do people mix religion and politics and make it so darned hard?

In a Crazy World

It's Sunday morning. It's surprising warm for December, but, then maybe not. With global warming, this may be the way it is. Plus, we are in Southwest Missouri, not New England. A bird is singing outside. A simple chirp, but just enough to remind me we are not alone. A whole host of other creatures is lurking below the surface, creeping in the trees and attics, and bushes. How delightful. Less delightful would be the fleas which have been multiplying and spreading from the cat to me! I don't know if they are trying to escape the coming winter, or if they are just increasing in number, but it is time for more flea treatment for the cats. Honestly, I don't love animals so much anymore. I have five children. I don't like the cat hair and scratching of animals in the house. My children make enough messes. I used to stare deeply into a dog's eyes and feel as if I  could read her soul. But I don't want one now. Too much work. I feel like that is wrong, even when it's honest. 

La vie avec un enfant de deux ans

It's been a banner Liam night. First, as I was trying to convince him not to climb on the table at dinner, I had to break out the big guns.
"Santa is watching you."
"He's watching me?"
"Yep," I assured him. "He wants to see if you're naughty or nice."
"I am. I am naughty or nice."

I tried a new tactic.
"If you are naughty, Santa won't put toys or candy in your stocking. He'll fill it with a lump of coal."

"Really?" Liam started to get excited.
"Do you know what coal is?"
"It's for a train!" Liam was very excited now.

Sigh.


Later, as we watched Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, Santa was lamenting that it was too stormy and and Christmas had to be canceled. Liam quickly turned to look out the window, than turned back to me, frantic.
"Christmas is canceled?"