On Love

People talk about love all the time. In fact, we probably over used the word; after all can we really love everything we claim to love?


If I say I love a movie or a song or a pair of shoes,  does it take away the meaning from when I say I love my children? It's different, of course, but is it possible to love a person and a pair of shoes the same amount, but on different planes?

I ask because, like most girls, I really expected love to be this amazing force that spun me around and made me see the world in a totally different way. Something huge and overwhelmingly powerful that takes your breath away. Now did I feel that about "whatshisname"? No, but by point I didn't figure it was physically possible for me to fall in love and I was using a mini-checklist to find the perfect guy. (The reason I didn't think I could actually feel love is for another post because, truthfully, I have NO idea where that idea came from.)

However, the love I feel for my children isn't even that crazy, powerful way. It's much more  of a quiet feeling that ebbs higher at certain times, but it's always there. It's not even something I'm concious of; it almost feels like another appendage-it's just there. Is that what actual love, like romantic love, feels like too?

I mean I always thought I was very much an Elinore, but I'm thinking maybe I've been a Marianne all along, but tried to force myself into Elinore's shoes. (Note-If you have neither read or seen the Emma Thompson version of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austin you will just not understand that statement no matter how hard I try to expalin it.)

I mean, how much have the lines, "Can the soul really be satisfied with such polite affections? To love is to burn, to be on fire. Like Juliet or Guinevere or Eloise." always resonated with my heart? But that would be infatuation woudn't it? A blaze that fades and fizzles as time rides by and eventually leaves you shivering. Perhaps, instead, it is a slow, quite smolder that, much like the love I have for the kids, flares and burns at times and then dies back into something comforting and manageable, easy to maintain. Is that really it? I know most of you are married, faithful few? Is that really what it is? Have I finally unlocked some mystery that has puzzled me for 32 years?

Is the true fairy tale just being happy to smile into the eyes for someone else for years?

These are things I need answered guys...come on. I need a bit of help here.

Birthday Wishes

In honor of my birthday I have decided to buy myself a present whoever, I have no idea what I want.

No, that's not quite right. The problem is I want almost everything I see because I never let myself really have anything. *sigh*  I'm going to try to narrow down my focus over the next week and post different choices of things that are in my price range (because really, I'd almost sell appendages to have the beautiful Tiffany blue suede bag from Tiffany's new handbag line. ) and would be at least a scosh practical for my life. (unlike said Tiffany blue suede bag mentioned before.)

I'm going to scour my favorites that fit this criteria and update this post as necessary.

The first thing I loooooove could actually be an awesome present and allow me to get something else too because I found it through The Creative Crate giveaway. If my "number" is chosen I have the opportunity to win this beauty right here>>

Isn't it amazing? It's from an etsy shop called Three Scoops of Love AND the girl's name is Jamie. HA! It's like its fate or something that I have to have it. It's beautiful, anything (almost) can be stamped on the copper teardrop, and it's only $40. Can you believe it!!!?? (BTW, it's a 30 inch chain.)

Let's see, possibility number 2 is.....

Smiles All Around

So, for those that do not follow me on facebook, which means for those who aren't in my immediate family,  I and having the BEST time begin back in the classroom, even if it is only on a part time basis. I swear that it gets  more fun with each class.

But first a bit of back story...the class I'm teaching at the local Community College (MSGCC-JC to be exact) is a short term Comp I & Comp II class. In essence, they will get a year's worth of English in one semester. Tough, but great to get things out of the way. Anyway, the "normal" teacher is out with back surgery. She has been the ONLY person to ever teach these two particular class. EVER!

A majority of the students were expecting her, only to see my smiling face the first day. Needless to say, those expecting her had reservations until about half way through the first class.

That begin said, last night I was told the coolest thing EVER and had to share...I had a student, a returning non-traditional student who had talked to and expected the "other" lady to be exact, told me on her way out of the class that she and another student were discussing me during one of the class breaks. (It's a 5 hour class, we take lots of breaks.) She told me that they were both really glad that I was their teacher and couldn't imagine the other teacher being anywhere as supportive and fun as I am.

Now I tried to be modest and replied, "Well I hope you both still feel that way in December," but inwardly, my faithful few, I was preening like a peacock.

Damn, it's hard to be humble sometimes.

Let's just hope comments like that make their way around campus and land me a permanent position. Fingers cross people. Fingers crossed!!!

Smack me in the Face and Let's Start Again.

As I'm lying down to sleep, which I dearly need to do right now, I begin thinking about this search that has gotten started. It's something very akin to The Great Guy Search. I realized that every time I find myself in the vicinity of a male I instantly check out that left hand. It's almost a compulsion now. It wasn't until I was standing in the check out line in Hell Walmart that I noticed I had made a mental note of wedding rings on every male around me.

When did I become this girl? I mean, I'm not feeling some deep societal push to couple up because all of my friends are like "Meh, give it time." I'm not feeling familial pressures because my Pop has already made that one abundantly clear. I believe the conversation went something along the lines of, "I hope to hell you think you have to get married again just to make it because that's bullshit and unnecessary." I might have missed a word here or there, but that was the general message. I've always thought my Pop had such a way with words...

So, back to the whole bed thing...I'm thinking about my newest obsession with wedding rings and realize that, again, I have listened to my Pop, but not heard him. I found the kernel of doubt that has me looking searching and thinking I need a man in my life because (drum roll please) I seriously do not think it will ever be possible for me to live on my own with Things 1 and 2 without any sort of support or help from my Pop.

I mean, examining the evidence in questions so far, it's pretty plain why that issue exists. 

• teaching adjunct online
• teaching adjunct at community college
• no full time job
• no one is hiring (or at least not hiring me)
• I actually had to swallow my pride and borrow money from my Pop for my bills last month. (I get paid very erratically from U of P and won't get a ju co one until the end of Sept. Let's just say that I cried, my Pop wrote a check and couldnt' figure out how to make me not cry. It was just beyond me, but yet, he understood. Yes, pride is my Sin of choice.)
• I have 2, count them 2, children. Two.

Now when I think about "How Long" it been I am slightly deceived. Although I have been "married since June of 2009 (I don't care WHAT the law says; in my soul I was NOT married as of May 21-when I came out of my haze. Damnit!), I have only lived with my parents since after Christmas. This is what? Month 8? now in my head I should already have everything in life 4x4, but I do realize that life just doesn't work that way.

Kinda like losing weight-it took years to put it on so it'll take years to take off. Great in theory, but shitty in practice. I just hate waiting. (Humm, do I smell another bout of pride? Why, yes, yes I do!)  And it's especially hard for me because, lets face it, numbers have never been my strong suit and I have no idea what it would take for the 3 of us to live without me having constant panic attacks over what bill gets paid this month.  I always think, it was easier having two incomes...well, not really. It should have been easier, but nothing was easy living with, you know, whatshisname.

He's the reason I'm still paying off a credit card that I haven't touched since Tristan was born. thank God I've gotten the others paid off finally, but that one has a pretty hefty balance left on it and every time the bill comes in I get so pissed off I can't even see straight because I know that is because of beer, beer, nights he "had" to get out of the house and drink beer in a bar, more beer, and taking me out to eat once in a bluefuckingmoon. Did I mention beer?

Sorry...bitter rant. Should have warned you. My bad. Anyhoo...

I guess  the long and the short of the issue is that I'm afraid. There I said it. I'm afraid and I'd like someone to swoop in and take care of everything and solve all of these problems that I can't see a way out of.

Problem!!!!

Umm, last I looked at my birth certificate, it didn't say "Princess" or place silver spoon here AND the last time I got married it didn't solve a single problem.

I need to remember what started this journey. I started it. And I started it so I could make sure that I had a firm hold of "Me" so if, by some chance, since I'm not all that unfortunate looking, someone does come along I never lose me again. I started it so I could rediscover my voice and my passions and my dreams that got lost amid beer cans and nights sleeping alone.

So, like Elizabeth Gilbert says in Eat, Pray, Love...

Operation self esteem. Day fucking one.

(Take, at least, two. SNAP)

Challenge

Ok, so I know I talked about the 50K in 50 days challenge a few months back. Umm, yeah, that totally didn't happen. I got about 12,000 good words in, but life, lack of motivation, fear and time got in the way.

Lame excuse?

Yep, but that can't be helped now. I still plan to finish but I'm giving myself a bit more time.

Why?

Because I think I might have found a way to kinda support myself or at least become well on my way to supporting myself with my writing.

How?

New Love Stories Magazine. That's right; you read it correctly. It's a magazine dedicated to love stories. Although it's not something that I would necessarily read, I plan to write and submit a few stories for publication. I'd only have to write a story between 2,800 to 3,750 words. I think I can certainly knock that out from idea all the way to editing in about a week.

I'll try to keep all of you guys posted on my progress this week, but for now I'm going to work on honing in on just one idea. Wish me luck....

New Beginings with BBQ

So, yesterday was kinda of a downer of a day, as I'm sure you guys realize, but I am newly motivated to get back on the proverbial writing horse.

Why?

Oh, I was invited to a BBQ at my new friend, Karen's blog Down the Mountain by my supper, supportive buddy Jessica. I have made some wonderful new friends that give superior writing tips, advice and inspiration. And you guys know that making new friends is part of my new goals I set. One a month. (Hummm, so would making a bunch of blogging friends count separately or do I just add them together as one friend? )

Even though I'm always a bit shy at first, I decided to  show up with my homemade sangria and a decorative patter of tums (What? There's a lot of food. Someone is bound to have interjection and I want to be prepared.)

I'm hoping all of my new buddies will keep me on the path to rediscovering my voice and keeping my head out of all of my mundane frustrations. After all, I know I'm easier to live with when I write it all out instead of just simmering in my own juices.

Welcome to any new faithfuls!

The Thing About Moms.

I don't know if you know this, but I am great with moms. Seriously! My whole life moms have loved me like no one's business. If I dated their sons, they wanted me to be thier daughter in law. If I was friends with their daughters, they wanted ME to be their daughter instead. And I have no idea why because I've never had that same luck with my own.

Strangely enough my absolute favorite teacher in the entire world looks so much like my mom that they have often been mistaken for one another. I distinctly remember having to do double takes occasionally in class. Now, I would have loved, her reguardless of how she looked just for her vitality, positive spirit, and joy, but I cannot express the feelings that washed over me everytime I was given praise for even the smallest thing. Even now, as an adult, I still well up with tears when she showers me with encouragment and praise. Why? Because she is way more generous with it than her doppleganger has ever been. (There were actually times in high school when I would pretend it had been my mom that said those things instead of just me teacher.)

Don't get my wrong, she loves and all that, but I'm still willing to place odds that if she got to go back and choose that daughter she'd want...it really woudn't be me. (Truthfully, it'd be a boy. Yes, as a matter of fact I do know that is true, thank you. I was told.)  The thing is she is just very fugal with her praise and positive encouragement. She tends to say the first thing that pops into her head, which is often a bit harsh. But she is unaware of it.

However, I have just never understood why I am unable to even name the number of mom-type people in my life that think I am beyond wonderful and hav no problem telling me so and my own only finds fault with every.single.thing.I.do.or.try.or.am.

I often tought that maybe it's just the way the whole mother/dughter dynamic jsut worked, but I'm not like that with Cait. I cannot even count the number of times a day I tell her how beautiful she is or how smart she is, or how proud I am of her. Now this could be me overcomensationg, but I don't think so. I really and truely, to the bottom of my soul, believe everything I tell her. Maybe I'm just not afraid to tell her.  Maybe I'm just unafraid to release control just a smidge and allow for imperfections to show and accept they exist.

But here I am, just as I was as a kid, hiding my hurt feelings behind a smile to placate and keep the status quo. (And God knows when I mention those feelings it's somehow my fault for feeling that like anyway because I'm way too sensitive.)  Does she get mad and fraustrated with me? Yep. Does she talk to me the same way she ever has? Yep. Do I say anything about it? Not enough to make a difference because I promised Pop I wouldn't.  However, where at first I was afraid that in her frustration with me and the kids she'd eventually force me to leave so she could regain her "space," I know that is one fight my Pop would absolutly fight for me.

The funny thing is...when I do leave she'll cry and be sad and miss us. Too bad she can't channel future feelings into her current ones and not take us (me) for granted while we are here.