For those of you who are not familiar, Farmtown is a game on Facebook. It's a virtual interactive game in which the player is a farmer, and has his/her own farm. You can have houses, buildings, trees, flowers, animals, and of course, crops on your farm. You plant everything, and when the crops "come in", you go to the virtual marketplace (where you will find other farmers, a.k.a. losers like yourself) and hire them to "harvest" your fake crops for you. Believe it or not, it can be very addictive. There are levels of farmers, in that you receive experience points and money for either harvesting or plowing in others' farms. Each level is indicated by a number, and a title....levels range anywhere from 1 to around 120.....currently, I am what is known as a level 50, or "Green Dazzler". On some sick level, I am both proud, and embarrassed by the title of "Green Dazzler". Proud, in the sense that I am WAY more experienced than, say, a level 20 farmer....and EQUALLY proud, that I am LESS experienced than a level 100 farmer, because that must mean that I have SOME sort of life, right? But then logic quickly takes over, and I realize that the fact that I have ANY experience points proves beyond a reasonable doubt... that I indeed, have NO LIFE.
Since taking Katie to college, in between crying bouts, I have been spending more and more time in Farmtown. I already spent too much time there as it was....so now, it's really ridiculous. Never has it been more clear to me than today. Imagine this scene...... I log on to Facebook and go into Farmtown. I go into the virtual marketplace, because I want to "work" on someone's farm and make "money". As I'm sitting there with probably 25 other virtual farmers, all trying to get work, we all begin to realize that no one is hiring. So everyone just sits there and types stupid stuff like....JOBB PLEEASSE. And this is the way people type in Farmtown, because I think they all must be morons. Except me, of course. So, finally I decide to break the ice and I type.... "Any Howard Stern fans in here?" I wait with anticipation. Finally, some farmer named "Mammie" pipes up. I forgot to mention that we all get to name ourselves something clever, like "Billy Bob", or "Daisy Mae"....smart stuff like that. Anyway, so this "Mammie" types to me... "NO". Ok, well that's simple enough. But it's not good enough for me. I want to know why. So I say... "Why not, Mammie"? And she says "hes rude". Hmmm.....Ok. I press further. "No he's not, he's hilarious", I say. So Mammie says... "if your into that junk....my life is much better than that junk". Ok, so now I really press.. "Mammie, have you actually listened to even one of his radio shows?" Then she says... "dont need to. i got better things than that junk to do". (like take a grammar class?) So then I get annoyed...and say..."Oh, like what? Sit here on a fake farm game? How can you sit and say you don't like Howard when you've never listened to him?" She never responds. Just ignores me. And it doesn't matter, because then I get hired to work at "Nerd Farm"...seriously. So, when I get to "Nerd Farm", he has maybe 24 crops to harvest. And he's hired 3 of us to do this job . So we each get 8 crops. 8 crops....and they're worth about 14 cents a piece. So I find myself just getting more and more angry at this "Nerd Farm" guy. In fact, I'm so angry that as I'm leaving his farm to go back into the marketplace, I type..."Why in the hell would you hire 3 people for 24 crops.....you're a dumbass". And that's when I realized.....I need a job. I really, REALLY need a job.
Something else I've learned about Farmtown.....it is a direct reflection of society today, and the economic problems our nation is facing. It's really very interesting watching the interactions that take place. Farmtown is not just for people in the United States....it has people from every nation. Anyone who has a Facebook account can play Farmtown. When I first started playing Farmtown, over a year ago, there were unspoken rules. If you were hired to work someone's farm, you considered yourself lucky. You thanked that Farmer for the work, and you didn't leave until the job was finished. Sounds silly, I know. But that's the way it worked. Eventually, it has morphed into a whole other type of place. Now, when you're in the Marketplace trying to get hired, you will see Farmers come in and demand work. For example, they will come in and bark a variety of demands, such as.... "solo work only"...."will only harvest wheat"...."no plowing, only harvesting"....and many other strange dictations. It's almost like the workers are now controlling the game, telling employers what they will and won't do. I mean, do they realize they're trying to get work? Americans are guilty of the same thing. They are "too good" to do some jobs.
And the employing farmers are equal offenders, I think. In example, my "Nerd Farm" guy who hired 3 people for 24 crops. Why? Because he wanted to spread the wealth around. That's right. We're all equal....everyone should get the same. Nevermind that some farmers have been there longer, have played more, have worked harder.....doesn't matter. We should spread it around equally. So where is our reward for success? Why work hard for what you have, only to have it given to those less fortunate.....or even worse, those less driven?
So there it is. In black and white. Non-disputable, and crystal clear. My brain is going to waste. And I need a job. And not in "Nerd Farm".
Monday, August 23, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
Stop the rocking chair. I'm dizzy.
Well, here I am almost 2 months into 47. ------Ok, that's it. Thanks for reading.
So, my daughter is going off to UGA in the Fall. First of all, the word Fall is totally misleading. Fall now means August 15, right in the middle of "dog days". But in any case, she is heading there in August. Going through the rigors of trying to get her there has made me stop and reflect on my life. Not something I typically enjoy. But I have noticed a few interesting things regarding the different stages of life. It's amazing what 28 years can do to you. Yes, this is one of those stupid comparative lists that old people make talking about the good ole' days, and how things have changed. So just do yourself a favor and stop reading now. It's really not that clever. But I'm putting it here anyway.
As a college Freshman
1) I had no idea how much fun I was about to have
2) I could eat pretty much anything and it didn't really "stick".
3) I didn't mind sleeping on a 3" mattress covered in industrial strength plastic.
4) The "meal plan" seemed institutional and boring.
5) Hearing the song "Superfreak" over and over and over again didn't annoy me.
6) I didn't die from not having air conditioning, and somehow the humidity didn't ruin my hair.
7) Walking to class up and down hills seemed normal.
8) Going to class was a chore.
9) Waking up was generally pain free, except for hangovers.
10) Everyone wanted to borrow my clothes.
11) I paid for nothing, and did everything I wanted.
12) Dominique Wilkins was a campus superstar and made the girls giggle in the Creswell dorm elevator.
13) High Anxiety was a fairly recent Mel Brooks movie.
14) Wearing a size 9 was pretty fat, and a size 11 was downright embarrassing.
As a 47 year old:
1) I had no idea how quickly the fun would STOP after college
2) EVERYTHING I eat "sticks"
3) There's no way I'm sleeping on anything but a Beautyrest
4) I AM the "meal plan"----and it sux
5) Hearing "Superfreak" over and over again....well, that's still kinda fun.
6) No air conditioning is not an option. Period.
7) Walking up and down hills is not an option. Period.
8) Going to class sounds invigorating, even refreshing.
9) Waking up is never pain free, and hangovers start the night before.
10) No one would be caught dead in my clothes.--even me.
11) I pay for everything, and do nothing I want.
12) Dominique Wilkins now whores himself out for Zaxby's, and no one under the age of 30 knows who he is....just plain sad.
13) High Anxiety is a daily occurrence.
14) Wearing a size 9 is anorexic.
Where did 28 years go? Why is youth wasted on the young? Why can't we be like Cocoon, without the aliens? Just young forever and never grow old. Part of me (a pretty big part) would like to go back to 1982 and stop the clock. And just keep re-living that year over and over again.....or perhaps just start at 1982, and live out the rest of my life....again....this time with all the knowledge that I currently have gathered. I wonder what I would do? I imagine that I would buy up as much Microsoft stock as I could, and then sell it and make gazillions of dollars...never work....and just sit by the pool drinking strawberry daiquiris all day. And of course I would be tan and beautiful. And rich. But cool. And nice. Rich and cool and nice.....like my friend Sondra Boone. And in the evenings, when it was nice and cool out, I could sit on my huge front porch in my fine rocking chair....... but I'm pretty sure I would still have to stop rocking...BECAUSE I WOULD BE OLD AND DIZZY. Even in my richest dreams, I can't escape being dizzy. Or the Shingles. Or the Gout. Or the Bursitis. Or the Rheumatism..........you know how it is.
So, my daughter is going off to UGA in the Fall. First of all, the word Fall is totally misleading. Fall now means August 15, right in the middle of "dog days". But in any case, she is heading there in August. Going through the rigors of trying to get her there has made me stop and reflect on my life. Not something I typically enjoy. But I have noticed a few interesting things regarding the different stages of life. It's amazing what 28 years can do to you. Yes, this is one of those stupid comparative lists that old people make talking about the good ole' days, and how things have changed. So just do yourself a favor and stop reading now. It's really not that clever. But I'm putting it here anyway.
As a college Freshman
1) I had no idea how much fun I was about to have
2) I could eat pretty much anything and it didn't really "stick".
3) I didn't mind sleeping on a 3" mattress covered in industrial strength plastic.
4) The "meal plan" seemed institutional and boring.
5) Hearing the song "Superfreak" over and over and over again didn't annoy me.
6) I didn't die from not having air conditioning, and somehow the humidity didn't ruin my hair.
7) Walking to class up and down hills seemed normal.
8) Going to class was a chore.
9) Waking up was generally pain free, except for hangovers.
10) Everyone wanted to borrow my clothes.
11) I paid for nothing, and did everything I wanted.
12) Dominique Wilkins was a campus superstar and made the girls giggle in the Creswell dorm elevator.
13) High Anxiety was a fairly recent Mel Brooks movie.
14) Wearing a size 9 was pretty fat, and a size 11 was downright embarrassing.
As a 47 year old:
1) I had no idea how quickly the fun would STOP after college
2) EVERYTHING I eat "sticks"
3) There's no way I'm sleeping on anything but a Beautyrest
4) I AM the "meal plan"----and it sux
5) Hearing "Superfreak" over and over again....well, that's still kinda fun.
6) No air conditioning is not an option. Period.
7) Walking up and down hills is not an option. Period.
8) Going to class sounds invigorating, even refreshing.
9) Waking up is never pain free, and hangovers start the night before.
10) No one would be caught dead in my clothes.--even me.
11) I pay for everything, and do nothing I want.
12) Dominique Wilkins now whores himself out for Zaxby's, and no one under the age of 30 knows who he is....just plain sad.
13) High Anxiety is a daily occurrence.
14) Wearing a size 9 is anorexic.
Where did 28 years go? Why is youth wasted on the young? Why can't we be like Cocoon, without the aliens? Just young forever and never grow old. Part of me (a pretty big part) would like to go back to 1982 and stop the clock. And just keep re-living that year over and over again.....or perhaps just start at 1982, and live out the rest of my life....again....this time with all the knowledge that I currently have gathered. I wonder what I would do? I imagine that I would buy up as much Microsoft stock as I could, and then sell it and make gazillions of dollars...never work....and just sit by the pool drinking strawberry daiquiris all day. And of course I would be tan and beautiful. And rich. But cool. And nice. Rich and cool and nice.....like my friend Sondra Boone. And in the evenings, when it was nice and cool out, I could sit on my huge front porch in my fine rocking chair....... but I'm pretty sure I would still have to stop rocking...BECAUSE I WOULD BE OLD AND DIZZY. Even in my richest dreams, I can't escape being dizzy. Or the Shingles. Or the Gout. Or the Bursitis. Or the Rheumatism..........you know how it is.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Anatomy of a Funeral.
So my dad died a couple of months ago. I said, "So my dad died a couple of months ago". It's so odd, that sentence. And although the actual date of death was March 5, 2010, he's almost always been kind of dead to me.
I have lots of memories of my dad. The first time I actually remember seeing him, I was probably 3 or 4 years old. Don't get me wrong, I lived with my dad since birth. But I only remember him after age 3 or 4. He was this man who worked a lot, and when he did come home, most of the time he was either in bed, or watching TV, or cutting grass. When he would cut grass, I would always make him a glass of lemonade, or ice water and bring it out to him. I can remember being really proud of myself for doing that. And I think he appreciated it. One day, I thought I would take him his drink, and as he drank it, I had the great idea of doing a ballet dance for him, since I was taking ballet. He just waved his hand in a dismissive manner, and told me not to dance. He seemed really embarrassed, like I had committed a crime right there in the yard. I really couldn't understand why he didn't want me to dance for him. I thought I was putting on a show. My mom and my grandparents seemed to really like it when I performed for them. He was different.
When I was 6, I stayed with the neighbors after school, because both of my parents worked. On Fridays, my dad would pick me up, and take me to get a toy. He did it almost every Friday. I really enjoyed that. And because he knew I liked going to Fairs, sometimes on a weekend, just out of the blue, he would say... "let's go find a Fair somewhere".. and we would get in the car and drive around Atlanta looking for some sort of Fair. We hardly ever found one, but I didn't care. One time, he bought me a kiddie car with a real motor, and gas pedal. I thought it was the most awesome thing ever.
But as I got older, things changed. His motto, which he told anyone who would listen, was "children are to be seen and not heard". He was almost never home, and if he happened to be home, he wasn't happy. When I was 11, he skipped Christmas. Did you even know that was possible? For a dad to just skip Christmas? Well, he did. When I got up that morning to see what gifts were under the tree, he just stayed in bed. So it was me and my mom. We have the film of it and everything. Finally, after a couple of hours, he decided to come in briefly. We got that on film, too. Years later, he would describe me as a child to one of his friends. And he said this as a compliment.....he said...."Terri was a great kid. I never knew she was even there." And he meant it in the best possible way. To him, that was the ultimate compliment. I was invisible.
And I continued to stay that way after my parents divorce. I must've REALLY been great at that point, because he almost NEVER saw me. I would say that is when my dad started his slow, and painful death to me. For years, he ignored me almost completely. He did what he had to do, as was dictated by divorce papers. Other than that, visits from him were rare, and often included various girlfriends whom I had never met until the day they were included in our "visits". So for 35 years, I lived in almost certain invisibility where he was concerned. I never got used to it, and even up until last year, was still surprised when he completely forgot my birthday again. I always was dumbfounded by this. If you only have ONE child, how can you not remember their birthday? It was very painful each and every year. I thought I was numb to the pain. Little did I know the REAL pain would start in March of 2010.
On March 4, I felt compelled to visit my dad in the hospice care facility he had been in for 3 months. Something just told me to go, and I did. March 5, he died. Silly me; I thought the pain died with him. When, in fact, it was as if someone had stuck a knife in me, twisted it a billion times, and left it there to bleed. It started with the way I was informed of his death. For practical purposes only, I will refer to my dad's wife, as..... my dad's wife. So, my dad's wife called our house. My husband answered. She said...exact words..."Kevin, Papa has died". My husband knew who she was, so he started to say something nice, like...."I'm sorry"....but before he could even say anything, she hung up. "Papa has died". Well, who the hell is this Papa person, I wondered? This is how much I DIDN'T know about my dad. Apparently, his name was now Papa.
2 weeks prior to his death, his wife was extremely concerned that I provide pictures to the funeral home, so that she would have lots of pictures to show on a television set during the "wake". So I went through all my pictures, and picked out the very few I had of him with me in the picture. I think there were two. One when I was about 3, and another when I was 36. So the funeral was practically planned before he ever drew his last breath. The day before the funeral, she called to ask me if I wanted to get up and speak at the funeral. Absolutely not. I did not want to get up in front of all those people and speak about "Papa". She informed me that one of her daughters was going to speak at the funeral. Later on that night, my daughter, who was also completely ignored by this "Papa" person, had told me she would like to sing a song at his funeral. I was surprised that she would want to, but also completely proud of her. She's light years ahead of me in maturity and kindness. I called my dad's wife and proudly told her that Katie wanted to sing a song at the funeral. I was almost in tears when I told her this, because I thought it was just so incredibly forgiving of her to want to sing at someone's funeral who completely ignored her her entire life. Not surprisingly, "the wife" told me she would check with the preacher and funeral home director, and call me back. For reasons unknown to me, I was completely shocked when 5 minutes later, she called and said that Katie couldn't sing a song. There was just too much already scheduled for the funeral to fit in a song. Have you ever heard of a funeral that was so packed with material that a 2 1/2 minute song wouldn't fit in the program? No...neither have I. But none the less, I listened to her, and hung up the phone. I was furious. Apparently, though, she had second thoughts about it, because 20 minutes later, she called to say that she had somehow figured out a way for Katie to sing this song, provided of course, that she dedicate it to 'Papa'. Well, why WOULDN'T she dedicate it to him, means it was at HIS funeral? I think the only reason she called back was because she knew that she would be unable to explain to all of our family members why she wouldn't allow my dad's only grandchild to sing at his funeral.
During the "action packed" funeral, one of my dad's wife's daughters did get up and speak. She told what a wonderful guy my dad was, how great he was to all of them. At the end of her speech, she looked at me (I was the one on the second row, along with the alcoholic step sister, and various other "second-tier" family members) and said... "So, Terri....thank you for giving us your dad all these years". Um........ok. Honestly, at that moment, I thought I was going to have a heart attack or something. I had never actually experienced a heart attack, but I was absolutely certain this was what one felt like. Quickly I scanned the room to see if paramedics were available. They were not. I don't know how I did it, but I managed to make it without my heart bursting out of my body. I don't remember the rest of the day, really. It was a blur. Except for the fact that as we were sitting in the funeral procession in our car, one of the wife's son in law's came to my window, and informed me that I had to remove a large plant from the church that was sent by a friend of mine. This was a HUMONGOUS plant. And it needed to be removed now? Are you kidding me? But ok. We got the plant.
It has been 2 months. The woman has never called to see if I wanted anything of my dad's. All of my dad's jewelry she gave to my uncle. She has never given me anything. And she won't. Again, I am somehow still surprised at her incredibly insensitive and vindictive behavior.
I've always heard it. "Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord." I really, truly hope this is still in effect. I've also heard you should bless the people who persecute you, and not curse them. I'm finding this one a little tough. VERY tough. But I'm going to do the best I can to abide by this. I've been in therapy ever since my dad's death. I have spent the past 7 weeks talking solely about my dad's 35-year-long death and the effect it has had on me. There is so much anger, I cannot process it all. It will probably take me months and months to be able to do so. But I'll say this....I'm sooo tired of spending my money and time on my dad and his wife. Bless their hearts.
I have lots of memories of my dad. The first time I actually remember seeing him, I was probably 3 or 4 years old. Don't get me wrong, I lived with my dad since birth. But I only remember him after age 3 or 4. He was this man who worked a lot, and when he did come home, most of the time he was either in bed, or watching TV, or cutting grass. When he would cut grass, I would always make him a glass of lemonade, or ice water and bring it out to him. I can remember being really proud of myself for doing that. And I think he appreciated it. One day, I thought I would take him his drink, and as he drank it, I had the great idea of doing a ballet dance for him, since I was taking ballet. He just waved his hand in a dismissive manner, and told me not to dance. He seemed really embarrassed, like I had committed a crime right there in the yard. I really couldn't understand why he didn't want me to dance for him. I thought I was putting on a show. My mom and my grandparents seemed to really like it when I performed for them. He was different.
When I was 6, I stayed with the neighbors after school, because both of my parents worked. On Fridays, my dad would pick me up, and take me to get a toy. He did it almost every Friday. I really enjoyed that. And because he knew I liked going to Fairs, sometimes on a weekend, just out of the blue, he would say... "let's go find a Fair somewhere".. and we would get in the car and drive around Atlanta looking for some sort of Fair. We hardly ever found one, but I didn't care. One time, he bought me a kiddie car with a real motor, and gas pedal. I thought it was the most awesome thing ever.
But as I got older, things changed. His motto, which he told anyone who would listen, was "children are to be seen and not heard". He was almost never home, and if he happened to be home, he wasn't happy. When I was 11, he skipped Christmas. Did you even know that was possible? For a dad to just skip Christmas? Well, he did. When I got up that morning to see what gifts were under the tree, he just stayed in bed. So it was me and my mom. We have the film of it and everything. Finally, after a couple of hours, he decided to come in briefly. We got that on film, too. Years later, he would describe me as a child to one of his friends. And he said this as a compliment.....he said...."Terri was a great kid. I never knew she was even there." And he meant it in the best possible way. To him, that was the ultimate compliment. I was invisible.
And I continued to stay that way after my parents divorce. I must've REALLY been great at that point, because he almost NEVER saw me. I would say that is when my dad started his slow, and painful death to me. For years, he ignored me almost completely. He did what he had to do, as was dictated by divorce papers. Other than that, visits from him were rare, and often included various girlfriends whom I had never met until the day they were included in our "visits". So for 35 years, I lived in almost certain invisibility where he was concerned. I never got used to it, and even up until last year, was still surprised when he completely forgot my birthday again. I always was dumbfounded by this. If you only have ONE child, how can you not remember their birthday? It was very painful each and every year. I thought I was numb to the pain. Little did I know the REAL pain would start in March of 2010.
On March 4, I felt compelled to visit my dad in the hospice care facility he had been in for 3 months. Something just told me to go, and I did. March 5, he died. Silly me; I thought the pain died with him. When, in fact, it was as if someone had stuck a knife in me, twisted it a billion times, and left it there to bleed. It started with the way I was informed of his death. For practical purposes only, I will refer to my dad's wife, as..... my dad's wife. So, my dad's wife called our house. My husband answered. She said...exact words..."Kevin, Papa has died". My husband knew who she was, so he started to say something nice, like...."I'm sorry"....but before he could even say anything, she hung up. "Papa has died". Well, who the hell is this Papa person, I wondered? This is how much I DIDN'T know about my dad. Apparently, his name was now Papa.
2 weeks prior to his death, his wife was extremely concerned that I provide pictures to the funeral home, so that she would have lots of pictures to show on a television set during the "wake". So I went through all my pictures, and picked out the very few I had of him with me in the picture. I think there were two. One when I was about 3, and another when I was 36. So the funeral was practically planned before he ever drew his last breath. The day before the funeral, she called to ask me if I wanted to get up and speak at the funeral. Absolutely not. I did not want to get up in front of all those people and speak about "Papa". She informed me that one of her daughters was going to speak at the funeral. Later on that night, my daughter, who was also completely ignored by this "Papa" person, had told me she would like to sing a song at his funeral. I was surprised that she would want to, but also completely proud of her. She's light years ahead of me in maturity and kindness. I called my dad's wife and proudly told her that Katie wanted to sing a song at the funeral. I was almost in tears when I told her this, because I thought it was just so incredibly forgiving of her to want to sing at someone's funeral who completely ignored her her entire life. Not surprisingly, "the wife" told me she would check with the preacher and funeral home director, and call me back. For reasons unknown to me, I was completely shocked when 5 minutes later, she called and said that Katie couldn't sing a song. There was just too much already scheduled for the funeral to fit in a song. Have you ever heard of a funeral that was so packed with material that a 2 1/2 minute song wouldn't fit in the program? No...neither have I. But none the less, I listened to her, and hung up the phone. I was furious. Apparently, though, she had second thoughts about it, because 20 minutes later, she called to say that she had somehow figured out a way for Katie to sing this song, provided of course, that she dedicate it to 'Papa'. Well, why WOULDN'T she dedicate it to him, means it was at HIS funeral? I think the only reason she called back was because she knew that she would be unable to explain to all of our family members why she wouldn't allow my dad's only grandchild to sing at his funeral.
During the "action packed" funeral, one of my dad's wife's daughters did get up and speak. She told what a wonderful guy my dad was, how great he was to all of them. At the end of her speech, she looked at me (I was the one on the second row, along with the alcoholic step sister, and various other "second-tier" family members) and said... "So, Terri....thank you for giving us your dad all these years". Um........ok. Honestly, at that moment, I thought I was going to have a heart attack or something. I had never actually experienced a heart attack, but I was absolutely certain this was what one felt like. Quickly I scanned the room to see if paramedics were available. They were not. I don't know how I did it, but I managed to make it without my heart bursting out of my body. I don't remember the rest of the day, really. It was a blur. Except for the fact that as we were sitting in the funeral procession in our car, one of the wife's son in law's came to my window, and informed me that I had to remove a large plant from the church that was sent by a friend of mine. This was a HUMONGOUS plant. And it needed to be removed now? Are you kidding me? But ok. We got the plant.
It has been 2 months. The woman has never called to see if I wanted anything of my dad's. All of my dad's jewelry she gave to my uncle. She has never given me anything. And she won't. Again, I am somehow still surprised at her incredibly insensitive and vindictive behavior.
I've always heard it. "Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord." I really, truly hope this is still in effect. I've also heard you should bless the people who persecute you, and not curse them. I'm finding this one a little tough. VERY tough. But I'm going to do the best I can to abide by this. I've been in therapy ever since my dad's death. I have spent the past 7 weeks talking solely about my dad's 35-year-long death and the effect it has had on me. There is so much anger, I cannot process it all. It will probably take me months and months to be able to do so. But I'll say this....I'm sooo tired of spending my money and time on my dad and his wife. Bless their hearts.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Today is not the day.
Well, here I sit. Again. Ears ringing out of my head. Is it from listening to loud music? Is it from wax buildup? Is it from some mysterious disease or cancer that they just haven't found yet? I suspect it's the latter. Which is probably why I sit here yet again with a glazed look. I'm so tired of just existing. Just keeping the peace. Just making it till tomorrow. For more years than I care to remember, that's been my answer when asked the question... "What are you doing today"? My answer has been.. "Oh, nothing. Just making it through the day". Seriously, that's been my answer. What kind of an answer is that? And why am I still just making it through the day?
I guess it beats NOT making it through the day. But I'm not exactly sure what has happened to me over the years. I feel tired. Just tired of all the BS of regular life. Tired of phone calls. Tired of "things I have to do". It has gotten to the point that I get annoyed when it becomes time for a meal. Because I know that I will have to decide what I and everyone else in my house is going to eat. I dread it each and every day. I don't recall my mother or my grandmother dreading meals. We just ate. It was not this big of a deal. Why is it such a deal now?
My dad is dying. He is in a nursing home/hospice until his death is official. I went to see him on Friday. I had avoided this visit for as long as I could. Finally, he specifically asked to see me, and I relented. I had mentally prepared myself for the worst, but even with all the preparation, it was still very sad. He is in a semi-private room, with another man who is dying of cancer. My dad seemed to recognize me, but had very few words to say. This was not any different than when he was not "sick". But what haunted me the most, was watching the circus-like atmosphere that was going on in his room. His current wife is in charge of his care, and it has never been more apparent to me than on Friday as to why my mom and dad divorced in the first place. The reason is..... he didn't like us, me and my mom. I know this because his wife cares for him in an entirely different way than we would have. Her idea is to be in denial, and to make every day a loud party. My idea is to be quiet and restful and calm. I'm not saying either one is right......they're just different. Very, very different. But to watch what was going on with him....with all the visitors, and the loud talk, and the moving of his bed, and just on and on activity.....it just almost made me ill. I felt so sorry for him. But this is what he chose, so it must be what he likes. I hope it makes his final days enjoyable. I asked about the possibility of getting him a private room. It would cost more every month to get one, but I felt like it would make things more peaceful for him.....and for the poor man next to him. I was told that his wife would rather him be in this semi-private room, because when she's not there, she wants the cancer-ridden man to look out for my dad and call the nurse if anything happens to my dad. God, it's just too much.
And that's when I realized...... I have no control. I am not in control of the situation, so I have to just let it go. I am trying, but I find myself thinking of it night and day. Wondering if anything can be done to make him more comfortable during his last days. But I don't think there is. I think he's had all the good times, all the Varsity chili dogs and all the laughter he's going to have.
There is something that I can do for myself, though. I can get up, wipe the dust off my brain and everything else....and start a new life. Enjoy it. Do things that make me feel good, if I can think of any. Laugh. Act like I'm 20 again. That's what I CAN do. And I WILL do that. SOMEday. I'm sure of it.
But today is not the day.
I guess it beats NOT making it through the day. But I'm not exactly sure what has happened to me over the years. I feel tired. Just tired of all the BS of regular life. Tired of phone calls. Tired of "things I have to do". It has gotten to the point that I get annoyed when it becomes time for a meal. Because I know that I will have to decide what I and everyone else in my house is going to eat. I dread it each and every day. I don't recall my mother or my grandmother dreading meals. We just ate. It was not this big of a deal. Why is it such a deal now?
My dad is dying. He is in a nursing home/hospice until his death is official. I went to see him on Friday. I had avoided this visit for as long as I could. Finally, he specifically asked to see me, and I relented. I had mentally prepared myself for the worst, but even with all the preparation, it was still very sad. He is in a semi-private room, with another man who is dying of cancer. My dad seemed to recognize me, but had very few words to say. This was not any different than when he was not "sick". But what haunted me the most, was watching the circus-like atmosphere that was going on in his room. His current wife is in charge of his care, and it has never been more apparent to me than on Friday as to why my mom and dad divorced in the first place. The reason is..... he didn't like us, me and my mom. I know this because his wife cares for him in an entirely different way than we would have. Her idea is to be in denial, and to make every day a loud party. My idea is to be quiet and restful and calm. I'm not saying either one is right......they're just different. Very, very different. But to watch what was going on with him....with all the visitors, and the loud talk, and the moving of his bed, and just on and on activity.....it just almost made me ill. I felt so sorry for him. But this is what he chose, so it must be what he likes. I hope it makes his final days enjoyable. I asked about the possibility of getting him a private room. It would cost more every month to get one, but I felt like it would make things more peaceful for him.....and for the poor man next to him. I was told that his wife would rather him be in this semi-private room, because when she's not there, she wants the cancer-ridden man to look out for my dad and call the nurse if anything happens to my dad. God, it's just too much.
And that's when I realized...... I have no control. I am not in control of the situation, so I have to just let it go. I am trying, but I find myself thinking of it night and day. Wondering if anything can be done to make him more comfortable during his last days. But I don't think there is. I think he's had all the good times, all the Varsity chili dogs and all the laughter he's going to have.
There is something that I can do for myself, though. I can get up, wipe the dust off my brain and everything else....and start a new life. Enjoy it. Do things that make me feel good, if I can think of any. Laugh. Act like I'm 20 again. That's what I CAN do. And I WILL do that. SOMEday. I'm sure of it.
But today is not the day.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
In defense of Howard Stern.
The color gray. By definition, it means somewhere between black and white, with a neutral hue. It can also mean dull and monotonous. Which brings me to Howard Stern. Trust me, read on.
Recently, it has come to my attention that American Idol is considering replacing the marginally beloved Simon Cowell with the very polarizing Howard Stern. This has caused an outrage of such proportions, it is almost unbelievable. The news media has gone wild with reports of talks, contracts, and hundreds of millions of dollars in salary for Howard should he choose to take over where Simon leaves off. People are threatening to boycott the show forever if Stern is hired. If I didn’t know better, I would think they were talking about hiring Hitler. Mind you, all of these reports are pure speculation, as neither Howard nor Fox has confirmed anywhere that the talks are actually occurring. So all of this outrage is based simply on “What if…..”.
It seems that people either love Howard or they despise him. It’s either black…..or white…no gray. There is no in-between. But love him or hate him, it cannot be denied that the man has created one of the most successful radio careers in history. He is not an overnight success story. It took him many years to hone the now famous, or rather, infamous…. show. Much of Howard’s attention in the press centered on the outrageous parts of his show, and if you weren’t fortunate enough to live in the New York or Philadelphia area, all you heard were outtakes. You never got to hear Howard’s show in its entirety. And I think that is where much of the problem with his image lies. People believe what they hear. And if they only hear negative, then that’s what they’re gonna believe.
However, true Howard fans know what he’s all about, and they are willing to shell out the $14.00/month just to hear him for 20 hours per week. His much publicized and highly lucrative deal to make the bold move to Satellite Radio for $500 million, has more than paid for itself in subscription revenues. Why are people willing to pay to hear a man talk on the radio? Could Rush Limbaugh bring as many paying listeners to a new medium? Highly doubtful.
So what is it? What’s the secret? Hundreds of disc jockeys all over the nation have tried to copy his show. And they’ve been quite successful. But once you hear The Howard Stern Show, those other guys (this means you,“Regular Guys”) are a cheap imitation. The palpable difference is that Howard is real. He’s REAL. He’s your crazy brother, your irreverent college pal that you love despite his crassness. He’s the unpopular, pimply faced, forgotten high school student that makes it big. He’s that one guy in the office that men openly admire, and women secretly want. He’s an unruly imp, that these days would be put on Ritalin immediately.
This is a prozac nation, people. We spend millions of dollars a year on psychiatrists, therapists, and counselors. All in the quest to calm ourselves from our inner beasts. Our highs and lows. Drug companies make millions trying to keep us calm with a little pill that quells our frustrations. Quiets the noises inside our heads, ultimately making us “comfortably numb”. So is it any wonder that we will pay to hear some highs and lows? To listen to a roller coaster on the radio? To delight, and even cringe at the man who has dared to say and do things we would never think of doing? Or perhaps he’s saying exactly what we want to say, but are afraid of not being liked. Whatever the reason, millions of people are out there hungering for something. And they’re getting a little of it through Howard Stern.
Howard is well known for the “black and white”. The outrageous, attention getting stunts. His “Lesbian Dial-A-Date”, his “Homeless Game”, his “Porn Star Feud”. Those things make the news, get people interested….or outraged….whichever the case may be. But what has kept Howard on the air for 30 years is not the black and white…..but the gray. The dull, monotonous, neutral hue, that never gets any media attention. The faithful husband and devoted father. The thoughtful uncle and brother. The philanthropist. The loyal boss to the same crew for over 20 years. The caring and devoted son. The best friend. These are qualities that sustain a relationship. The glue that holds together the “Stern Nation”. It is HERE….in between all this black and white, if you look and listen carefully with open hearts and minds….that you will find the most delightful shade of gray.
Recently, it has come to my attention that American Idol is considering replacing the marginally beloved Simon Cowell with the very polarizing Howard Stern. This has caused an outrage of such proportions, it is almost unbelievable. The news media has gone wild with reports of talks, contracts, and hundreds of millions of dollars in salary for Howard should he choose to take over where Simon leaves off. People are threatening to boycott the show forever if Stern is hired. If I didn’t know better, I would think they were talking about hiring Hitler. Mind you, all of these reports are pure speculation, as neither Howard nor Fox has confirmed anywhere that the talks are actually occurring. So all of this outrage is based simply on “What if…..”.
It seems that people either love Howard or they despise him. It’s either black…..or white…no gray. There is no in-between. But love him or hate him, it cannot be denied that the man has created one of the most successful radio careers in history. He is not an overnight success story. It took him many years to hone the now famous, or rather, infamous…. show. Much of Howard’s attention in the press centered on the outrageous parts of his show, and if you weren’t fortunate enough to live in the New York or Philadelphia area, all you heard were outtakes. You never got to hear Howard’s show in its entirety. And I think that is where much of the problem with his image lies. People believe what they hear. And if they only hear negative, then that’s what they’re gonna believe.
However, true Howard fans know what he’s all about, and they are willing to shell out the $14.00/month just to hear him for 20 hours per week. His much publicized and highly lucrative deal to make the bold move to Satellite Radio for $500 million, has more than paid for itself in subscription revenues. Why are people willing to pay to hear a man talk on the radio? Could Rush Limbaugh bring as many paying listeners to a new medium? Highly doubtful.
So what is it? What’s the secret? Hundreds of disc jockeys all over the nation have tried to copy his show. And they’ve been quite successful. But once you hear The Howard Stern Show, those other guys (this means you,“Regular Guys”) are a cheap imitation. The palpable difference is that Howard is real. He’s REAL. He’s your crazy brother, your irreverent college pal that you love despite his crassness. He’s the unpopular, pimply faced, forgotten high school student that makes it big. He’s that one guy in the office that men openly admire, and women secretly want. He’s an unruly imp, that these days would be put on Ritalin immediately.
This is a prozac nation, people. We spend millions of dollars a year on psychiatrists, therapists, and counselors. All in the quest to calm ourselves from our inner beasts. Our highs and lows. Drug companies make millions trying to keep us calm with a little pill that quells our frustrations. Quiets the noises inside our heads, ultimately making us “comfortably numb”. So is it any wonder that we will pay to hear some highs and lows? To listen to a roller coaster on the radio? To delight, and even cringe at the man who has dared to say and do things we would never think of doing? Or perhaps he’s saying exactly what we want to say, but are afraid of not being liked. Whatever the reason, millions of people are out there hungering for something. And they’re getting a little of it through Howard Stern.
Howard is well known for the “black and white”. The outrageous, attention getting stunts. His “Lesbian Dial-A-Date”, his “Homeless Game”, his “Porn Star Feud”. Those things make the news, get people interested….or outraged….whichever the case may be. But what has kept Howard on the air for 30 years is not the black and white…..but the gray. The dull, monotonous, neutral hue, that never gets any media attention. The faithful husband and devoted father. The thoughtful uncle and brother. The philanthropist. The loyal boss to the same crew for over 20 years. The caring and devoted son. The best friend. These are qualities that sustain a relationship. The glue that holds together the “Stern Nation”. It is HERE….in between all this black and white, if you look and listen carefully with open hearts and minds….that you will find the most delightful shade of gray.
Friday, January 15, 2010
I love my Coco.
I’m with Coco. Team Conan. Up with Coco. Just a few of the ways to express my love for Coco….a.k.a. Conan O’Brien. Back in 2004, I couldn’t have been happier when Conan announced that Jay Leno would be leaving The Tonight Show, and he….Conan….would be taking over in 2009. It wasn’t that I cared about The Tonight Show, per se….I was just happy for Coney. But the thing I liked best about it, was that it came on an hour earlier. I might actually be able to watch his show LIVE, instead of DVR-ing it and watching it the next day. This was exciting news for an over-40 year old.
With great anticipation, on June 1, 2009, I watched his first Tonight Show. It was awesome. The beginning of that first show was brilliant…..classic Conan. If it’s on youtube, find it and watch it. You won’t be sorry.
I have not always been an avid watcher of “Late Night with Conan O’Brien”. By the time I started watching, Andy Richter was no longer on the show. I never saw that dynamic. So when Andy showed up on The Tonight Show, it was a little awkward….to me. I couldn't figure out why Andy was there, and what exactly he added to the show. I always felt Conan did wonderfully on his own….with a few awkward silences between he and Max Weinberg. Didn’t think he needed anyone else. But I grew to enjoy the chemistry between he and Andy.
What I did not enjoy watching, was Conan’s attempt at what I will refer to as the “dumbing down” of his comedy to appease the long-time older viewing audience of The Tonight Show. Because I was a fan of his, I could see his struggle at trying to balance his brand of humor and keeping the demographics that NBC had attained with the tamer Jay Leno. It was, at times, painful to watch. His beloved “string dance”, and signature jumping spin move at the beginning of each “Late Night” show, was apparently considered too “out there”, and was dropped almost immediately. So were many of his mannerisms and facial expressions, which I had always found to be delightful and endearing. Much of Conan’s humor was considered edgy and sarcastic, which many times didn’t translate to this earlier time slot. It was a tweaking process that needed time to work.
The BIGGEST problem with Conan’s transition to The Tonight Show, however, was the horrible NBC prime time lead-ins…. The biggest offender was The Jay Leno Show, which aired at 10PM each night. That show was so horrible it cannot be thoroughly described here. Many NBC affiliates were threatening to drop the Jay Leno Show, because it was absolutely KILLING their local news ratings, and more importantly, their revenues. All of this was bad news for Conan. When Jay Leno took over The Tonight Show, back in 1993, it took him 2 years …. 2 years… to beat David Letterman in the ratings. That’s right…even with “Must-See TV” as a lead-in, Jay could not beat Letterman. And had he not wrangled the newly scandalized Hugh Grant as a guest, I don’t believe he would’ve ever beaten Dave.
I feel Conan wasn’t given a chance. Without knowing specifics, it looks to me like NBC is treating a loyal employee for at least 17 years, with no respect whatsoever. And Conan’s lawyer should, at the very least, be admonished for making the colossal blunder of not specifying the time slot of The Tonight Show in his contract. Unfortunately, this is a learning experience for Conan. But he has weathered other storms during his career. In the beginning of Late Night, his contract was basically renewed on a weekly basis pending the ratings. He survived that, and he will go on to survive this. He’s a brilliant guy. A gifted writer and comedian. And if his contract is honored, he’ll have 40 million reasons to sit back and watch Jay Leno choke on his own greediness as The Tonight Show franchise implodes in lame-ass, milk toast humor. As much as Jay wanted to be Johnny Carson, he will soon realize that he is and always will be …just Jay Leno. An above average strip club comic who traded integrity for a fleet of classic antique cars he will never drive.
Kevin Reilly, this is your wake up call. You need to grab Conan, and ride that red curly wave into Late Night talk show history. Just do it.
With great anticipation, on June 1, 2009, I watched his first Tonight Show. It was awesome. The beginning of that first show was brilliant…..classic Conan. If it’s on youtube, find it and watch it. You won’t be sorry.
I have not always been an avid watcher of “Late Night with Conan O’Brien”. By the time I started watching, Andy Richter was no longer on the show. I never saw that dynamic. So when Andy showed up on The Tonight Show, it was a little awkward….to me. I couldn't figure out why Andy was there, and what exactly he added to the show. I always felt Conan did wonderfully on his own….with a few awkward silences between he and Max Weinberg. Didn’t think he needed anyone else. But I grew to enjoy the chemistry between he and Andy.
What I did not enjoy watching, was Conan’s attempt at what I will refer to as the “dumbing down” of his comedy to appease the long-time older viewing audience of The Tonight Show. Because I was a fan of his, I could see his struggle at trying to balance his brand of humor and keeping the demographics that NBC had attained with the tamer Jay Leno. It was, at times, painful to watch. His beloved “string dance”, and signature jumping spin move at the beginning of each “Late Night” show, was apparently considered too “out there”, and was dropped almost immediately. So were many of his mannerisms and facial expressions, which I had always found to be delightful and endearing. Much of Conan’s humor was considered edgy and sarcastic, which many times didn’t translate to this earlier time slot. It was a tweaking process that needed time to work.
The BIGGEST problem with Conan’s transition to The Tonight Show, however, was the horrible NBC prime time lead-ins…. The biggest offender was The Jay Leno Show, which aired at 10PM each night. That show was so horrible it cannot be thoroughly described here. Many NBC affiliates were threatening to drop the Jay Leno Show, because it was absolutely KILLING their local news ratings, and more importantly, their revenues. All of this was bad news for Conan. When Jay Leno took over The Tonight Show, back in 1993, it took him 2 years …. 2 years… to beat David Letterman in the ratings. That’s right…even with “Must-See TV” as a lead-in, Jay could not beat Letterman. And had he not wrangled the newly scandalized Hugh Grant as a guest, I don’t believe he would’ve ever beaten Dave.
I feel Conan wasn’t given a chance. Without knowing specifics, it looks to me like NBC is treating a loyal employee for at least 17 years, with no respect whatsoever. And Conan’s lawyer should, at the very least, be admonished for making the colossal blunder of not specifying the time slot of The Tonight Show in his contract. Unfortunately, this is a learning experience for Conan. But he has weathered other storms during his career. In the beginning of Late Night, his contract was basically renewed on a weekly basis pending the ratings. He survived that, and he will go on to survive this. He’s a brilliant guy. A gifted writer and comedian. And if his contract is honored, he’ll have 40 million reasons to sit back and watch Jay Leno choke on his own greediness as The Tonight Show franchise implodes in lame-ass, milk toast humor. As much as Jay wanted to be Johnny Carson, he will soon realize that he is and always will be …just Jay Leno. An above average strip club comic who traded integrity for a fleet of classic antique cars he will never drive.
Kevin Reilly, this is your wake up call. You need to grab Conan, and ride that red curly wave into Late Night talk show history. Just do it.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
It's going to snow, said Quinton the crow.
January 12, 1982.
Today, I went to class like every other day. Which basically means that I went to one class, and skipped the others. As I was walking back from the one class that I DID attend, it started to snow. I love snow. And anyone who is a Georgia native knows that at just the inkling of snow.....everything shuts down. Today was no different. I headed to the dorm, where all my friends were getting on all their winter "gear" to go out in the snow. I went down to my boyfriend's hall below mine (where I basically lived, much to the chagrin of all the guys down there), and gathered with them. We all had on our best winter stuff. One guy had on some black shiny dress boots with heels. It was his birthday. So, armored with our coats, hats, gloves, and one last shot of alcohol.....we headed out into the snow. I was completely unprepared for the outdoor scenery. And I'm not talking about the weather. To the delight of everyone, there were at least 300 students lined up on both sides of the street next to our dorm. Going down the middle of this street were a multitude of things.... shower curtain liners, dining hall trays, and even a canoe.....all filled with inebriated Dawg fans. Does it get any better than that? A police car attempted to go down this street, but was swarmed by kids who tried to turn the car over. Luckily for them, they did not succeed. But this poor policeman just gave up and kept on driving. My boyfriend was from Illinois, so he was quite well equipped to walk up the hill with aplomb... those of us from the South were not so lucky. The birthday boy with his black boots kept falling and sliding everywhere. I ended up losing my keys in the snow, only to find them later in a Snowjam miracle. And one of the greatest feats of the day occurred when our friend Ronnie Miles fell flat on his back, hands in pockets, but still managed to continue to smoke his cigarette. This was very cool indeed. And this was how college kids celebrated snow.
About 50 miles away, my dad was coming home from work in his van. He had gotten off work early that day, and was hoping to make it home in time to go to the store to stock up on essentials.... He got about 3 miles from home, and traffic came to a stand still. No one could go up the hill. Finally, some kids came out of a nearby apartment complex, and started pushing cars....my dad was one of the first ones to get pushed. He was worried about my mom, and was hoping she was able to get home. As he was pulling in the driveway, he noticed a light on inside, and was very relieved. As he walked through the door, he saw a fire going in the fireplace, and smelled my mom's great cooking. She, too, had gotten home from work early, and had already gone to the store, and had everything ready when he got there. Not quite as exciting as my college experience, but very heartwarming, just the same. And if I had to guess, I bet this was one of their favorite days together.
January 7, 2010
Today, they're talking about snow. I love snow. I just love what it can do for the soul. Just the mention of snow can make a bad day good. It can give you hope. Hope for a fun day and a fun night. That's what it did for me today. I went to the grocery store, and bought a bunch of fun stuff. The store was bustling with other people who were doing the same. Everyone was in a good mood. That same 20 degree temperature that was a pain in the butt yesterday, was delightfully invigorating....even refreshing coming out of the grocery store with all my "fun stuff". I came home and cooked a wonderful dinner, and turned on the Christmas lights that I still have not taken down. I KNEW there was gonna be a good reason to keep those darn things up. My sweet husband cleaned up the kitchen. Football is on TV (roll tide); my daughter is upstairs playing the guitar, and I'm sitting here still filled with hope. The snow is falling. It's even sticking to the ground. It's beautiful. And I'm warm. And happy. With quiet anticipation, I patiently watch for the sweetest words in the English language.........Gwinnett County Schools Closed Tomorrow.
Today is a good day.
Today, I went to class like every other day. Which basically means that I went to one class, and skipped the others. As I was walking back from the one class that I DID attend, it started to snow. I love snow. And anyone who is a Georgia native knows that at just the inkling of snow.....everything shuts down. Today was no different. I headed to the dorm, where all my friends were getting on all their winter "gear" to go out in the snow. I went down to my boyfriend's hall below mine (where I basically lived, much to the chagrin of all the guys down there), and gathered with them. We all had on our best winter stuff. One guy had on some black shiny dress boots with heels. It was his birthday. So, armored with our coats, hats, gloves, and one last shot of alcohol.....we headed out into the snow. I was completely unprepared for the outdoor scenery. And I'm not talking about the weather. To the delight of everyone, there were at least 300 students lined up on both sides of the street next to our dorm. Going down the middle of this street were a multitude of things.... shower curtain liners, dining hall trays, and even a canoe.....all filled with inebriated Dawg fans. Does it get any better than that? A police car attempted to go down this street, but was swarmed by kids who tried to turn the car over. Luckily for them, they did not succeed. But this poor policeman just gave up and kept on driving. My boyfriend was from Illinois, so he was quite well equipped to walk up the hill with aplomb... those of us from the South were not so lucky. The birthday boy with his black boots kept falling and sliding everywhere. I ended up losing my keys in the snow, only to find them later in a Snowjam miracle. And one of the greatest feats of the day occurred when our friend Ronnie Miles fell flat on his back, hands in pockets, but still managed to continue to smoke his cigarette. This was very cool indeed. And this was how college kids celebrated snow.
About 50 miles away, my dad was coming home from work in his van. He had gotten off work early that day, and was hoping to make it home in time to go to the store to stock up on essentials.... He got about 3 miles from home, and traffic came to a stand still. No one could go up the hill. Finally, some kids came out of a nearby apartment complex, and started pushing cars....my dad was one of the first ones to get pushed. He was worried about my mom, and was hoping she was able to get home. As he was pulling in the driveway, he noticed a light on inside, and was very relieved. As he walked through the door, he saw a fire going in the fireplace, and smelled my mom's great cooking. She, too, had gotten home from work early, and had already gone to the store, and had everything ready when he got there. Not quite as exciting as my college experience, but very heartwarming, just the same. And if I had to guess, I bet this was one of their favorite days together.
January 7, 2010
Today, they're talking about snow. I love snow. I just love what it can do for the soul. Just the mention of snow can make a bad day good. It can give you hope. Hope for a fun day and a fun night. That's what it did for me today. I went to the grocery store, and bought a bunch of fun stuff. The store was bustling with other people who were doing the same. Everyone was in a good mood. That same 20 degree temperature that was a pain in the butt yesterday, was delightfully invigorating....even refreshing coming out of the grocery store with all my "fun stuff". I came home and cooked a wonderful dinner, and turned on the Christmas lights that I still have not taken down. I KNEW there was gonna be a good reason to keep those darn things up. My sweet husband cleaned up the kitchen. Football is on TV (roll tide); my daughter is upstairs playing the guitar, and I'm sitting here still filled with hope. The snow is falling. It's even sticking to the ground. It's beautiful. And I'm warm. And happy. With quiet anticipation, I patiently watch for the sweetest words in the English language.........Gwinnett County Schools Closed Tomorrow.
Today is a good day.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
And the answer is?
So, today I'm feeling blah. As I sit here, my house is filthy, Christmas decorations are still up....all of them, including the ones that I don't necessarily like. So there's guilt #1. Yet, I continue to sit here. I think today we will probably take down the stuff on the outside of the house. The stuff people can SEE. That way, unless someone looks really closely, we look like we're on the ball....doing the right thing......keeping up appearances. That's important, you know.... appearances. Ugh.
Which leads me to my next bit of guilt for today. Today is Sunday. I'm not in church, nor have I been today. In fact, we haven't been regularly in a long, long time. And I really like church. I was raised in a church.....we were there every Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night, choir practice.....and any other function on a weekly basis at my church. Then, as a teen....we slowed down....and eventually pretty much stopped. I would like to start going again regularly. I have been saying this for years. Then, Sunday morning comes, and I don't want to get up. I'm tired. My husband travels, and is always home on Sundays, so I say this is the reason. He's tired....he's been traveling.....let's rest today. But what's the real reason? I would say it comes down to laziness. Which brings me back to paragraph 1, and the Christmas decorations still being up. Pure laziness. Can you go to hell for laziness? I hope not.
And then, there's another piece of guilt. It's huge, and it encompasses a lot of my emotional time and thoughts. Not the "guilt" part, but the problem in general. My biggest and most heavy problem in my life (when I allow it to creep in) is my relationship or lack thereof with my "dad". My parents divorced when I was 13. A horrible time to go through a divorce, though I'm not sure there is EVER a GOOD time. Me and my "dad" were never really close. But the divorce made us even less so. I can remember sitting in the kitchen prior to my parents splitting up.....we were all there....and my mom said... as a general question to me and my dad...."how will you feel if we get divorced"? And my answer.....as well as my "dad's".....was....."It doesn't matter....I don't care". And I didn't. My day-to-day life didn't change one bit after their divorce. It was always me and my mom, and that's the way it stayed. Sad to think back, though, that 2 out of the 3 people in a family "didn't care" if they split up.
So, for the next 5 years, I saw my dad very sporadically, and the only time I did see him was when he would be going to my grandmother's house to eat, or for Christmas. He started dating right away after the divorce. How did I find this out? One day when he was picking me up to go to my grandmother's for one of our "family" get-togethers.....we took a detour and pulled up at a strange house that I had never seen. Not a word was said, but a woman came out, and got in the car. Of course I had to get in the backseat to let this woman sit up-front with my dad. I had no idea who she was. But apparently, she was someone who knew my dad, because she kept holding his hand. Every once in awhile, she would turn around and say something lame like "you have great skin, just like one of my daughter's". Whatever. She was a liar; I had terrible skin. She was now untrustworthy.
My dad never explained who this was. She was just "a lady" that he was seeing. And then, out of nowhere, the very next Christmas, my "dad" and his "lady" decided that I could no longer go to my grandmother's on Christmas and open my gifts like every other year. No....I was now expected to go to the "lady's" house and open my gifts there. Well, I was having none of it. I sat there, never spoke a word, opened my gifts, and then announced I would like to be taken home. And I was taken home. And that was probably the last Christmas that was really spent with my dad.....and that was age 15. After that, I refused to have anything to do with "their" get togethers. Fast forward 30 years. I'm still not going to their get togethers. I never went when I was single; I think me and my husband may have gone ONCE after we got married, and when I had my daughter, we went one time in 18 years. ----Oh, there is a lot of history, trust me. The 13- year old girl tried to give the "lady" a chance. I attempted to be nice to her. But she would do crazy things, like call our house (me and my mom's house) and ask to speak to my dad (if he was visiting for any reason)....Another time, when I had a serious operation at age 15, she called my hospital room the day of the surgery.....asked to speak to my dad.....then hung up when he answered. She was a crazy woman, and she still is. Lots and lots of history and proof that she's crazy. But I digress.....I'm talking about my dad here. Where was HE when all this history was taking place? Oh, he was building his antique cars, buying other people's kids cookies, giving boys from church his pocket knife, and enjoying his "new" family.
In the 31 years since my parents divorced, my dad has remembered my birthday about 8 times. He has remembered my daughter's birthday.....never. Maybe one time, when she was 1. Maybe. He has hardly ever sent her a Christmas present. He, himself, has NEVER called to invite us over, or to try and see Katie at all. He has always had this "lady" do it, and I have always refused. I told him many times that I never wanted to talk to her on the phone, that if he wanted to talk to me or Katie, that I wanted HIM to call......not HER. But it really never happened. Until this year. My dad has diabetes. He has had it for about 35 years or so. He has never taken care of himself. Just last year, he had one leg removed. This year, his other one will be removed. In August, he told me he wanted to see my daughter "before he died". This was a strange phone call to receive. I told him ok..... But then, things got hectic, and before I knew it, it was time for school. The day before school started, his wife called and just told me she was bringing my dad to see us the next day. I said "no". My kid had a huge project that was due the first day of school, and she hadn't even started it. She had 1 day to do it. It was the worst time ever for a visitor. I would've told the Pope he couldn't come that day either. -----so here I sit. I have talked to my "dad" about 3 or 4 times since August. His health is terrible. He's been inconsiderate, to say the least, over the past 35 years. The emotional pain he has inflicted upon me because of being ignored by him, is immeasurable. It tortures me to this day. Why doesn't my own father care enough about me to be a part of my life? Why has he not even bothered to get to know his only grandchild? And WHY, OH WHY do I feel guilty about not going to see him in the hospital? Why can't I let this go?
They say a parent's job is never done. Who knew my dad's job was emotional torture? He seemed like a nice enough guy. Perhaps I need to seek counsel for this problem. How many counseling sessions would one have to attend to find out why a father would not love his child? How much money would it cost me to find out? OH, where is that tootsie pop owl when you need him? He could figure it out, I'm sure.
Which leads me to my next bit of guilt for today. Today is Sunday. I'm not in church, nor have I been today. In fact, we haven't been regularly in a long, long time. And I really like church. I was raised in a church.....we were there every Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night, choir practice.....and any other function on a weekly basis at my church. Then, as a teen....we slowed down....and eventually pretty much stopped. I would like to start going again regularly. I have been saying this for years. Then, Sunday morning comes, and I don't want to get up. I'm tired. My husband travels, and is always home on Sundays, so I say this is the reason. He's tired....he's been traveling.....let's rest today. But what's the real reason? I would say it comes down to laziness. Which brings me back to paragraph 1, and the Christmas decorations still being up. Pure laziness. Can you go to hell for laziness? I hope not.
And then, there's another piece of guilt. It's huge, and it encompasses a lot of my emotional time and thoughts. Not the "guilt" part, but the problem in general. My biggest and most heavy problem in my life (when I allow it to creep in) is my relationship or lack thereof with my "dad". My parents divorced when I was 13. A horrible time to go through a divorce, though I'm not sure there is EVER a GOOD time. Me and my "dad" were never really close. But the divorce made us even less so. I can remember sitting in the kitchen prior to my parents splitting up.....we were all there....and my mom said... as a general question to me and my dad...."how will you feel if we get divorced"? And my answer.....as well as my "dad's".....was....."It doesn't matter....I don't care". And I didn't. My day-to-day life didn't change one bit after their divorce. It was always me and my mom, and that's the way it stayed. Sad to think back, though, that 2 out of the 3 people in a family "didn't care" if they split up.
So, for the next 5 years, I saw my dad very sporadically, and the only time I did see him was when he would be going to my grandmother's house to eat, or for Christmas. He started dating right away after the divorce. How did I find this out? One day when he was picking me up to go to my grandmother's for one of our "family" get-togethers.....we took a detour and pulled up at a strange house that I had never seen. Not a word was said, but a woman came out, and got in the car. Of course I had to get in the backseat to let this woman sit up-front with my dad. I had no idea who she was. But apparently, she was someone who knew my dad, because she kept holding his hand. Every once in awhile, she would turn around and say something lame like "you have great skin, just like one of my daughter's". Whatever. She was a liar; I had terrible skin. She was now untrustworthy.
My dad never explained who this was. She was just "a lady" that he was seeing. And then, out of nowhere, the very next Christmas, my "dad" and his "lady" decided that I could no longer go to my grandmother's on Christmas and open my gifts like every other year. No....I was now expected to go to the "lady's" house and open my gifts there. Well, I was having none of it. I sat there, never spoke a word, opened my gifts, and then announced I would like to be taken home. And I was taken home. And that was probably the last Christmas that was really spent with my dad.....and that was age 15. After that, I refused to have anything to do with "their" get togethers. Fast forward 30 years. I'm still not going to their get togethers. I never went when I was single; I think me and my husband may have gone ONCE after we got married, and when I had my daughter, we went one time in 18 years. ----Oh, there is a lot of history, trust me. The 13- year old girl tried to give the "lady" a chance. I attempted to be nice to her. But she would do crazy things, like call our house (me and my mom's house) and ask to speak to my dad (if he was visiting for any reason)....Another time, when I had a serious operation at age 15, she called my hospital room the day of the surgery.....asked to speak to my dad.....then hung up when he answered. She was a crazy woman, and she still is. Lots and lots of history and proof that she's crazy. But I digress.....I'm talking about my dad here. Where was HE when all this history was taking place? Oh, he was building his antique cars, buying other people's kids cookies, giving boys from church his pocket knife, and enjoying his "new" family.
In the 31 years since my parents divorced, my dad has remembered my birthday about 8 times. He has remembered my daughter's birthday.....never. Maybe one time, when she was 1. Maybe. He has hardly ever sent her a Christmas present. He, himself, has NEVER called to invite us over, or to try and see Katie at all. He has always had this "lady" do it, and I have always refused. I told him many times that I never wanted to talk to her on the phone, that if he wanted to talk to me or Katie, that I wanted HIM to call......not HER. But it really never happened. Until this year. My dad has diabetes. He has had it for about 35 years or so. He has never taken care of himself. Just last year, he had one leg removed. This year, his other one will be removed. In August, he told me he wanted to see my daughter "before he died". This was a strange phone call to receive. I told him ok..... But then, things got hectic, and before I knew it, it was time for school. The day before school started, his wife called and just told me she was bringing my dad to see us the next day. I said "no". My kid had a huge project that was due the first day of school, and she hadn't even started it. She had 1 day to do it. It was the worst time ever for a visitor. I would've told the Pope he couldn't come that day either. -----so here I sit. I have talked to my "dad" about 3 or 4 times since August. His health is terrible. He's been inconsiderate, to say the least, over the past 35 years. The emotional pain he has inflicted upon me because of being ignored by him, is immeasurable. It tortures me to this day. Why doesn't my own father care enough about me to be a part of my life? Why has he not even bothered to get to know his only grandchild? And WHY, OH WHY do I feel guilty about not going to see him in the hospital? Why can't I let this go?
They say a parent's job is never done. Who knew my dad's job was emotional torture? He seemed like a nice enough guy. Perhaps I need to seek counsel for this problem. How many counseling sessions would one have to attend to find out why a father would not love his child? How much money would it cost me to find out? OH, where is that tootsie pop owl when you need him? He could figure it out, I'm sure.
Friday, January 1, 2010
2010...a whole new something.
Well, so it's 2010. NOW what? Somehow, I have made it through another year. Where did it go? What did I accomplish? I find it rather disappointing that I accomplished nothing in 2009. Well, I say nothing. Actually, what I did was....I was emotionally supportive of my husband and my daughter. That's what I did.
This year will be different. I'm optimistic. Let's re-phrase. I'm TRYING to be optimistic. Katie will be leaving her normal life in August to start a totally new and exciting life in college. How exciting for her. I'm very optimistic about that. What will I do when she's gone? There are only so many "Thirtysomething" seasons I can watch. In fact, currently, there's only one. So THEN what will I do? Several scenarios present themselves:
1. I will go to work. I will get paid. Not enough, I'm sure. I will buy some clothing. I will meet some new people, and maybe like them. I will go out to lunch with some of them. I will text Katie at lunch to see how she is doing. I will pay bills. I will have an excuse not to cook dinner every night. I will start going to bed at 10PM, because I will need my sleep. I will be too busy to keep up with friends.
2. I will NOT go to work. I will stay home. I will say I'm going to go out of town with Kevin. I will say it, but never do it. I will stare into space and check facebook. I will play Bejeweled Blitz. I will eat a lot of fast food. I will get even fatter. I may become depressed. I will listen to lots of Howard Stern. I will DVR many shows. I will text Katie to see what she's doing. I will hope she is having fun. I will be too busy to keep up with friends.
3. I will NOT go to work. I will get on a health kick. I will start exercising. I will eat healthy foods. I will tell everyone they should do it, too. I will text Katie and tell her she should eat healthy like me, and she would feel great. I will lose weight. I will buy new, smaller size clothing. I will think I look OK. I will still be the same me, only smaller. I will be disillusioned. I will be too busy to keep up with friends.
There's a trend here. I'm too busy to keep up with friends. Why is that? What do I do that's so pressing? I don't know. I will try and figure this out in 2010.
Will I continue this blogspot? I don't know. Let's see how cathartic it is.
This year will be different. I'm optimistic. Let's re-phrase. I'm TRYING to be optimistic. Katie will be leaving her normal life in August to start a totally new and exciting life in college. How exciting for her. I'm very optimistic about that. What will I do when she's gone? There are only so many "Thirtysomething" seasons I can watch. In fact, currently, there's only one. So THEN what will I do? Several scenarios present themselves:
1. I will go to work. I will get paid. Not enough, I'm sure. I will buy some clothing. I will meet some new people, and maybe like them. I will go out to lunch with some of them. I will text Katie at lunch to see how she is doing. I will pay bills. I will have an excuse not to cook dinner every night. I will start going to bed at 10PM, because I will need my sleep. I will be too busy to keep up with friends.
2. I will NOT go to work. I will stay home. I will say I'm going to go out of town with Kevin. I will say it, but never do it. I will stare into space and check facebook. I will play Bejeweled Blitz. I will eat a lot of fast food. I will get even fatter. I may become depressed. I will listen to lots of Howard Stern. I will DVR many shows. I will text Katie to see what she's doing. I will hope she is having fun. I will be too busy to keep up with friends.
3. I will NOT go to work. I will get on a health kick. I will start exercising. I will eat healthy foods. I will tell everyone they should do it, too. I will text Katie and tell her she should eat healthy like me, and she would feel great. I will lose weight. I will buy new, smaller size clothing. I will think I look OK. I will still be the same me, only smaller. I will be disillusioned. I will be too busy to keep up with friends.
There's a trend here. I'm too busy to keep up with friends. Why is that? What do I do that's so pressing? I don't know. I will try and figure this out in 2010.
Will I continue this blogspot? I don't know. Let's see how cathartic it is.
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