What's with all the yelling? Seriously?

We went to the book fair/ice cream social tonight at my daughter's school. Aziza had her friend Lily over, so I took them both. I hadn't been to many school functions in a while, and it was nice to get out and see familiar faces. I know they say that you should maintain contacts and get out to network and socialize when you're unemployed, but the last few months I was feeling a little introverted. Not to mention, it's hard when people know you're unemployed and ask how that's going and did I find a new job yet? I tried to avoid that. Things have since changed, and I'm officially back to work as of this coming Monday!

Aziza picked out a few more Hannah Montana chapter books. She loves them now after getting a few for her birthday back in March. She loves to read and I try to encourage with books that challenge her reading abilities, and with stories that keep her interested. What 8-year-old girl doesn't like Hannah Montana anyway?

It was nice, the girls got their books and a poster for each of them, and we all had ice cream while sitting with another mom and her daughter, who is one of Aziza's best friends. While I was sitting and chatting with the mom, there was a mother at a nearby table screaming across the cafeteria at her kids to "get over here right now because we're leaving!" All the kids were playing, no one was really out of hand, and not to mention, it had somewhat emptied out and many had left to go home. Aziza's friend's mom and I looked over as soon as we heard her yell, and then tried to conceal our laughter. The mother was clearly just yelling like she always yells, I'm sure. She sounded pretty fierce for someone who has a 3rd grader and a kindergartener.

What's all the yelling for anyway? It was a beautiful, almost summer-like night, the kids were able to pick out some books they enjoy reading, and there was free ice cream for everyone. How can you have a problem there? I mean, even if you have problems - and we all do - let them go for that short period of time and just enjoy the moment. We just shook our heads in disbelief, thinking the same thing - how ridiculous! And not for nothing, but I did hear that mother yell at her kids when they were picking out books too. Seriously, what's with all the yelling?

Aside from the one screaming mother, it was a nice time for everyone!

The Word No

I don't know about you, but when someone tells me no way, sorry, nope, can't do that, or just plain no, I'm pretty certain whatever it is, I'm not getting it or it's not happenning. And I think it takes quite a long time to grapple with this, come to terms with the fact that we can oftentimes be powerless in situations that are important to us, where someone else controls that outcome.

It could be requesting time off from work for a special trip or day's event you might have coming up, it might be wanting an application for something to go through sooner than you've been told it will, it could be finding out that you have been denied a loan or entry into a school you had your heart set on. It could be any number of things really where we're told, "No, I'm sorry." And sometimes they tack on that "I'm sorry" but does it help? Not really. But as adults, we hope anyway, we have come to accept that life will oftentimes have moments of disappointment, or other times when we just don't get what we want. Internally we may be whining and wanted to yell or cry or react out loud, but this is a learned behavior to accept what it means when someone tells you no.

Unfortunately, it's not that simple when it comes to children. They want what they want and they are unconcerned with "why" they can't have it. And yes, they will act out, they will beg and whine, they will get angry and throw fits, or they will attempt to overthrow your authority and demand that you say yes. Not likely but I have to admit, there have been times when I've been pushed so far that I've caved. The battle is too much to bear sometimes. And of course, there has to be some yes in the face of all the no's that kids are subject to. It's not because we like to say no to them, but it's for their own good, or because they can't have and do everything they want or that pops into their heads. But making them understand the word no is not easy. I always say, "If I say no, that means I mean no." It doesn't mean that I'm going to change my mind to yes when you beg, whine and yell.

For example, Aziza asked me just yesterday if she could have a sleepover last night at her friend's house. It was Thursday, it was a school night, and honestly, she shouldn't have asked in the first place. She should really know better. But she pushed and pushed as far as she could. Of course, I refused to budge, trying to keep saying no, maintaining my calm and humor, despite the fact that she is relentless. Shouldn't saying no be clearly understood as No? If you've ever caved even once and changed your answer to yes in the face of the yes/no controversy, they have amazing memories for that stuff, and will do their best to yield similar results. But in reality, such a small word, that should carry so much more weight, has been redefined as weak as kids try to constantly overcome it, and get you to change it to yes.

Keep it consistent and keep explaining why it's no and hopefully they'll get it. We remember hearing no as a child from our parents, our teachers, or anyone that could disappoint us, but we learned that this small little word of no creeps up more than we'd like but we deal with it. And I know my daughter will get it, it's just a matter of when??

First Day of Training

Wow, I didn't realize just how much accounting work would be required at my new job, and no, I'm not complaining in the least, just thinking of all I'll be learning. Today I got quite an earful from the person I am replacing, Mary Jo. Nice, nice lady, but has been there 11 years and I think she just wants to quit working full-time. We covered lots of ground today in the 3 hours I was there, and it was exciting absorbing it all, feeling like a sponge. There's nothing worse than not being able to understand what someone is trying to explain to you, where you become confused and unsure. Luckily, it went much smoother than that. Whew!

I'm actually very pleased that someone is training me and walking me through everything. Many positions I've held in the past, I had to train myself, and it just made getting into the job that much more challenging. I'm sure with this job there will be a lot of "Huh?" and "Yikes! How do I do that?" but I think, ultimately, it will all fall into place. I feel confident about that.

But I can't seem to ignore the small little dig-like comments Mary Jo has made about Tom, my new boss, her soon-to-be ex-boss. It makes me wonder what's the real reason she's leaving. Wonder if she'll confide in me before her last day on Friday. Oh well, I've got bigger fish to fry - learning time and billing, remembering payables and receivables, preparing lengthy financial statements(ugh!!), all while becoming super friendly with Peachtree accounting software. Learning something new is always a challenge, but it can be a fun one. I see very good but slightly bumpy roads ahead!

A new job... FINALLY!

When I got laid off from IBM after Thanksgiving last year, I was glad to be getting some time off but concerned about how much time that would be. Knowing how the economy has been, and the fact that this area of Broome County, NY is not exactly dripping with jobs for the recently unemployed, I was definitely concerned, maybe a touch worried. I stayed hopeful and optimistic, and applied for everything that I seemed remotely qualified for. However, there seemed to be fewer and fewer jobs to apply for.

So yeah, I've been thinking of relocating to the Albany area(much better economy!), which I've mentioned on here in an earlier post, but I am very happy to say that we won't have to. I am so lucky to have landed an administrative position in a small CPA firm right here in town. My daughter nearly burst one of my eardrums when she screamed with sheer thrill! She LOVES this town, her friends, her school, and everything and anything else about it.

I'm content now, I'm on calm waters, stable ground. There's nothing worse than fearing your own financial demise, as you go through your savings praying it will carry you long enough to find new work. I'm fortunate that we didn't have to go that far, and my unemployment carried us.

With my birthday coming next week, and yes folks, it's my 40th, I can feel free to go out and buy myself something special! Feeling very grateful today!!

So Proud!

Aziza came home from school today with this last quarter's report card, and I couldn't be happier! Not only is she excelling in all her 2nd grade academics, but her teacher highly praised her writing abilities, and her storytelling skills. She appreciates how Aziza understands how to use different types of punctuation to strengthen her stories. She says her stories are funny and well-written.













I am surely a proud mommy today!

What Kind of Religion Do You Need?

Next week Aziza has to attend her friend's communion ceremony. I think it will be the first time she's ever been in a church. We don't attend obviously, and it's not because I'm of another faith, but because I'm somewhat averse to all the religions. I do have my spiritual beliefs, closely resembling Buddhism, and they don't include the need for church. I've tried it in my past, attended one of those all-in-one brand of Christian churches. Their incorporation and acceptance of all faiths seems the most logical.

I once joined a church. It was in Elmhurst, Queens and it was called New Life Fellowship. They had a corporate organizational structure, great singers and musicians, and the pastor was youthful, energetic, and on the money in a lot of ways. He brought the ideas of faith into everyday modern situations. He was easy to relate to and connect with in his sermons.

I went alone every Sunday and sat quietly in the back waiting for the pastor to begin. I liked what he had to say, and at that time I was looking for someone to say just the right thing to me to pull me out of my funk, my dream state. Someone to show me the real world and then tell me how to deal with it. It was a good place, and although I somewhat dragged myself there, it felt right.

Until one day, too many people were curious about me, like they decided today was the day they were going to recruit me officially. People came up to me asking if I wanted to attend church meetings at their homes, or join their bible study class. I appreciated the offers but when they said I would make a great evangelist and wanted me to consider joining the group, I knew it was time to go. I attended one more time, I think, but sat up in the balcony section so they couldn't easily approach me. After that, I decided if I had to hide from them, I'd never be able to simply come and get what I needed. My needs were basic: to listen and hear the insight.

I never really attended church again, although I spent quite a lot of time sitting in Catholic Churches when it was quiet and empty. The high ceilings and almost haunting acoustics in Catholic Churches are ironically soothing, especially in one particular church, Our Lady Queen of Martyrs in Forest Hills, NY. In that church it was easy to find solace. It was there that I discovered that true religion, or spirituality, is at its greatest in times of true silence.

Aziza has mentioned that she believes in God and Heaven. She believes that in Heaven you can travel very fast, go anywhere you want, but you can't have your favorite snacks anymore. She says that's okay though because you really don't feel like you need them. I was so happy to hear her tell me this one day. I thought, "How does she know that? I never told her that." Maybe in little bits here and there, but never a real discussion on it. I just told her, "You're absolutely right, Aziza."

Emotional Writing

Writing poetry can be a beautiful experience, feeling the words so deeply as they pour out onto the page. There is a real emotional connection with the words in poetry, and in the fullness of the entire expression. Because the expression is so brief, it is more comprehensive and intense. The words don't leave you conversationally, like slowly oozing out, but instead, every word has a distinct purpose and meaning, in which you feel each one. I've experienced the feeling of completeness at times when a poem was finished, and then other times I cried because the magnitude of emotions compacted into twenty or thirty short lines can be emotionally overwhelming.

Before I began writing on this blog, my only outlet was poetry. I barely wrote any prose. I thought why do I want to write prose when I can say it so perfectly, so succinctly, and with all the imagery and intensity I need the words to have to tell my tale. Lately though, I feel as if I'm having more of a relationship with the words than mere brief intimate affairs - how I would characterize the experience of writing a poem. I'm enjoying the dance and the conversation that prose allows for in writing.

Writing prose is somewhat new to me, but reminiscent of when I used to journal write every day, almost all day. I didn't let anything go by without recording it somewhere. I'd carry a notebook with me on the train, while I sat at the library, when I sat at the park, everywhere really. Especially late at night was when the real thought began and I would just write endlessly. It was a part of me; it was me pouring out my emotions and reactions to the world around me, and the world within me. Everything just seemed so significant, I didn't want to leave one tiny bit out. I literally went through tons of notebooks in a 2-year time. Probably why I have so much trouble holding a pen and writing now. My handwriting is deplorable! Thank goodness for my laptop!

Prose writing seems to soothe the soul and it also excites the soul. Every day I wake up thinking "What should I write about today?" I can't wait to express something new. I'll be at the grocery store or driving in the car, and I'll be thinking of ideas. Sometimes I just love the act of typing and seeing the thoughts come to life, where words are not just words anymore. They are like allies and we're a team, as they help shape the story, share the feeling, and express ideas and visions. Am I a fiction writer? Probably not. Real life excites me, and the ability to take real life, share it, and have it mean something for others. That's what I love about writing. Not so much to entertain people, but to share and connect with them.

Poetry is and has been a true love of mine, as writing it has guided me out of some dark emotions, helping me free myself of them. However, I am suddenly infatuated with the friendship that prose offers me. Allowing me to talk and express feelings, situations, observations, or just be able to banter on about the absurdities of life, and we know there are many. The words in prose have the time for that, as do good friends.

Ain't Eight Great?

There are some days I think I'm doing a good job, and then there are days when I feel like I can't connect with my daughter at all, like she hasn't heard a word I've been saying. I say to myself that it's getting easier doing the single mommy thing as she gets older, but the truth of the matter is that, on some days, if not most days, it seems harder. Sure, potty training is over, she can dress herself, brush her teeth, ocassionally put her toys away, and she can even get her own snack when she's hungry - even though she has this way of requesting I "bring" it to her. Children sometimes confuse parents with room service clerks, and this is definitely not a hotel.

But even though all those early years challenges are out of the way, there are all the 8-year-old challenges I deal with today. They come with increased attitude and demanding expectations. Now it doesn't help the situation that she's an only child and I'm Jewish - ugh, the guilt! She doesn't have any siblings - even though they would probably fight, it's still someone to love to hate - and she doesn't have a dad. Two primary reasons I've always tried to be the friend and the parent, even though many said it can't be done. They warned me that it could backfire.

Aziza is a good girl, she's smart and funny, and she loves playing with her friends. However, the attitude I get from her sometimes is hard to take. Everything she says has a higher pitch sound at the end of it, like she's expressing her irritated lack of patience whenever I ask a question or attempt conversation she'd rather not have. And then there's the "Yes, I am doing it!" or "I'm going!" or "I need you to come right now and do blah, blah, blah..."

I guess what I'm saying is that I wish I didn't feel like one of my daughter's employees, and I wish I didn't have to be the one always enforcing the rules. The power struggle between us becomes more and more of a struggle as she grows and becomes more independent. I want her to act like a 'big girl" and be independent but not at my expense, and definitely not directed at me in a rebellious way. I guess it comes with the territory.

There are many days when we laugh, joke, watch TV shows she loves, play games, and eat snacks together, and then there are days when she's this pouting, demanding little girl that has very high expectations, and difficultly dealing with situations that do not go her way. I keep my wits about me, try to keep a cool head, and as I hear myself begin to preach, I see her slowly tune me out. She'd rather just say, "Okaaay, I'm sorry" and then have us forget about it. How do I know if she understands why she's saying sorry or what she did that warrants an apology. I mean, she's a smart, intuitive girl but she definitely lacks the ability to see her own faults - what 8-year-old can? Maybe my expectations are too high?

On days when I'm emotionally exhausted, I take deep breaths, and I find time to write. Writing has always been cathartic and therapeutic and I'm glad I have it. Doing a little more yoga couldn't hurt either!

Cohoes Falls in Upstate NY (Cohoes, NY)

Wow, this video really does the falls justice. Mere picture is nothing in comparison. Simply beautiful!

The Spindle City

I've gone from trying to get Aziza to stop crying whenever I mention we might be moving, to "when are we moving? I really want to go to that Harmony Hill school!" What a catchy little name... almost makes me want to relive the elementary school days. They have awesome programs for the kids and small class sizes to ensure each child gets just the right amount of attention.

A site that I use regulary is GreatSchools.org It's an excellent way to get a birdseye view into different schools when moving to a new area. It has all the pertinent statistical information about the school, and oftentimes it will have reviews from parents. I'm sure I want to move to the Albany area, but really a small suburb or town outside of it would be nice, and this site helps me to make that decision. As any parent knows, it's critical what school your child attends, and we definitely want to choose what's best for them.


After I showed Aziza pics of the Cohoes Falls, I felt like I was just reeling her in. She started asking when we could take a trip up there to look around, see the school, see the falls. Cohoes is a quaint town, from what research I've done into it so far, and I think we might like it. Nothing definite yet has been decided, but at least I have a town in mind. Cohoes, NY is often referred to as the "Spindle City" because of how textile production played a major role in the town's growth. Textile manufacturing has definitely slowed down and predominently moved out of the area, but it has been replaced with other types of small business that keep it thriving. I like their public pool and the free swim lessons provided by the Red Cross. Small towns are nice that way. It's certainly a nice town worth checking out.

Mornings

Every morning I drop Aziza off at school, come back home, eat an adequate size bowl of cherrios, have another cup of coffee, and stare out my kitchen window - the window that faces the parking lot behind my building. And across the parking lot are some smaller apartments with balconies, and each morning I see the same man sitting out there, smoking cigarettes, and maybe waiting for his small line of wet clothes to dry. A little while later, he takes his morning walk down the length of the parking lot and then around the block I presume. I usually don't track him once out of my kitchen window view.

And then I sit at my laptop, like I do every morning, and think, "Okay, what do I want to write about today?" And I am pacing myself. I have trunkloads of buried stories from the last four decades of my life that I know would widen even the most usually unaffected eyes. But I'm pacing myself. Will I ever sit and write the book about the absurdity of my life, and how I know I should have been the girl riding horses, her own horses, and living a life where there was no screaming and constant fear, but instead calmness and logic, and perhaps even love. A life that had been filled with options and possibilities, and the support from a family that I only saw in other people's homes. Families I studied, and questioned to myself, "Why can't my family even somewhat resemble the normalcy I see here?" I was filled with many questions.

I'm looking out my kitchen window and the view is not altogether inspiring but it depicts where I am right now, and it is my motivation to seek out lovelier views.

Dating and Doctors

The last fews days I didn't hear from Dave, the guy from Walmart, and honestly, I was content with that. After our last "date" I was not all that interested in getting together again. But he just called a little while ago, and stupidly, I answered the phone.

As I approach 40 in the next few weeks, I'd like to at least say that I've finally learned to be honest and up front with people. I usually am but I find it so hard to tell someone, "no thanks, I'm not really interested anymore." I know it will hurt their feelings, and their ego to some extent, and I just don't want to be the cause of that.

Too bad I've committed myself to coffee on Friday with him. I should have just ended it when I was on the phone just a short while ago, but he said he had a bad day, was having trouble sleeping, and was happy to be talking to me. How could I have told him just then? He was sad and seemingly vulnerable, talking about how his ex-wife has introduced their 5-year-old daughter to someone she is dating. I guess the thought of another man spending more time with his daughter than he does, is quite painful.

I should be nervous about my appointment with the cardiologist tomorrow, but surprisingly, I'm not. Not everyday you go see a heart doctor, but I'm good, really. Maybe my heart just needs an extra dose of romance. You think he could jot that down on his prescription pad? The ever-elusive mystery of true romance cures all that ails. Honestly, I think it might.

Making the Move

I remember eight years ago when I left my husband to move upstate NY with my daughter who was just 6 months old at the time. I knew it wouldn't be easy, and I was scared. I moved to a town where I didn't know a soul, I didn't have a job and I had a small baby to take care of. And for the first few years it was tough, as it was hard to find a good paying job, and Aziza needed so much more than I was able to give her. Her father was essentially gone and not someone who could help take care of Aziza. But hey, I did the best I could; I developed an independence and a strength I never knew I had in me. I went beyond who I thought I was was and became so much more, doing things I never thought I could.

But here I am again, faced with the daunting challenge of moving to a new town, not knowing anyone, hoping for better opportunities, all the while trying to figure out where everything is. In the wake of this, I need to maintain strength and confidence for Aziza so she knows we're ok, so I know we're ok. But when I look back over these past years, raising her alone in a small town, I think I kept it together no matter what the challenges. I know I always gave her a home where she felt safe and happy. Those are definitely important things, but she deserves even more than that, and so do I.

Moving away is definitely going to have its share of sadness, as Aziza loves her friends, her school, her town. But for me, I'm always looking beyond the hills, wondering what's better out there for me, and for us. And I know there's better...

Cell phones make our lives easier. Period.

At one time I was so against cell phones, thinking they were going to control us, and you know what? On some level they do. And it's not just verbal communicating, it's the incessant texting, which I thought was merely the beginning of the de-evolution of the written language. But okay, I've started to come around. I see the necessity, the convenience, and I see how it makes us more efficient communicators. We can plan better, meet better, connect better... it has many advantages. Plus, the texting, if not done to excess, is a very expeditious way to communicate.

This past weekend, it really hit home how important a cell phone can be, especially when plans seemingly go awry. The fast communication makes it easier to troubleshoot and avert awkward situations. Let me give you an example of what I mean.

I recently met this guy named Dave. He works at Walmart, and his daughter used to attend gymnastics with Aziza. Everytime I do my grocery shopping at Walmart, he'd come up and say hello and chat briefy, until one day he asked me out. We had coffee once and it went well. However the next date... not so good. Since it's hard for me to date and get out, I try to work around Aziza's schedule, like when she has playdates or parties to attend. Anyway, he offered to do my grocery shopping with me, as a way to spend time merely, while Aziza was at a birthday party. I found it odd but sweet in some way too.

So I take Aziza to the party at noon, only to realize that I screwed up and the party starts at 1pm, but I've already arranged to meet Dave at Walmart at 12:30. Does Dave have a cell phone that I can call him on to tell him we need to move our afternoon excursion to 1:30? Of course he doesn't. So at 12:10 I have to drive to Walmart, hang out with Aziza in the foyer and wait for him to arrive to give him the update.

Okay, we head to Barnes and Noble to kill a little time until I have to take Aziza back to the party. When we're ready to leave the bookstore, we head into the parking lot and Dave says, "I have to go into Dick's Sporting Goods to look for something, and it shouldn't take me long." I said, "Okay, I'll take Aziza to the party and meet you back here." So basically, I agreed to meet him back at Dick's. But you see, if he had a cell phone, I could call him, or even send a quick text, as I'm returning from the roller rink, to tell him to meet me at Walmart. But no, that would just make too much sense. Instead, I get back to Dick's, have to park the car, go inside, and then proceed to walk around the store until I find him. I just don't know how we wasted so much time before we had cell phones. After all that, I knew this was not going to be any romantic walk together around Walmart. I was too annoyed with the ridiculousness of how this day was shaping up.

As you could probably guess, we walked around the grocery store like an old married couple that hasn't seen the sites of romance or flirting in 20 years. I know they say grocery stores are a great place to meet people, but please, don't schedule dates there! Not only that. If you don't have a cell phone, get one! They're not so expensive anymore, and they come without the committed plans. If you plan to date, have kids, have a job, have a life... you need a cell phone!

New House Rules

Now normally our home environment is pretty lax, as I try to keep it light and easy-going since it's just Aziza and myself. But lately, not sure if it's her turning eight or what, but Aziza has become very argumentative, disputing everything I ask her to do. Either that, or she says, "not now" or "hold on" or "I'll do it later," and of course the best one of all is, "But my favorite show is coming on soon... can't I stay up and watch it?" It's endless with the excuses and reasons for not doing what an 8-year-old little girl needs to do.

I finally drew the line. I dropped her off the other morning at school, came home and typed up our "New House Rules." To realize my need and creation for these rules, you have to know that I deal with issues like too much snacking, going to bed too late, waking up too late, not getting the homework done, excessive TV viewing time, etc...I think you get the picture - typical stuff but still very frustrating. Being a single mother can be no picnic. There's no one to say, "Your mother's right, Aziza, it's time to go to bed" or "Aziza do your homework." Just having someone there as an echo to what you are trying to enforce, goes a long way.

So here are our New House Rules, and I have to say, with the exception of her small additions to it (she needed to feel like she had a say in it)and her requirement that we both sign the rules, she actually respects the fact that they are in place. They make sense to her and it gives her parameters, and me too. It helps me to stay on track, so I don't lose sight of the rules. And since I have posted them in more than one place in our home, I don't think either of us will be forgetting them anytime soon. So here they are:

1. After school you may have only ONE snack – choose wisely.
2. After school outdoor activity is encouraged: Riding your bike, walking, the library, the park
3. Homework is to be completed before dinner.
4. ONE Snack is permitted after dinner at about 7pm, providing all dinner was finished.
5. Television viewing time is over at 8pm EVERY school night.
6. Bedtime will be 9pm and NO LATER on school nights.
7. Morning wake-up time on school days is 7am, so there is time for breakfast, and to get ready for school.
8. We will leave for school NO LATER than 8:10am(she needs to be there by 8:25, and we are arriving at maybe 8:24 every day).

These rules are basic, and seemingly fair, and so far she has been following them. In addition, I've reserved time from 8-9pm every school night after TV time is over for us to do something together before she goes to bed. She likes knowing that this hour I'm all hers and that we're doing something she wants together.

Kids definitely need limits, they like rules, it helps them to understand what is expected of them, and it provides for a secure, consistent environment. I'm definitely going to make every effort to continue with this as I think we may make some real progress in achieving an even more harmonious, less stressful home life. And with little things like these, it should be manageable - I hope!

Cancer

Seizing life, clutching it,
turning it gray and cold
but not before it
courses through vessels
like poisonous snakes,
devouring tender insides
like feasting on prey,
turning hope to hell
and love to loss.
Why cancer?
is the question as smoke
fills the air with a haze
of death, where breath is
faint, almost gone. The
outside walls are untouched,
undiseased, still, and live
free from the hostile attack,
unlike when soldiers die
their unnecessary deaths,
unable to be saved
as there is no cure for
the disease called war.
And there certainly
can be no peace,
no heaven, no hope
when it is assured
that the battle will
almost always be lost.

Days Gone By

Every time he looked at her
Every time he spoke to her
he saw a sweet, fragile child
with a lover's crush, yearning
but too young to know
what love was. He sensed the
gentle pounding in her heart,
the passion; so brand new.
She captured his gaze
and entranced with her eyes
but he was older and
only smiled with kind love,
not with the desire
she wanted to be ready for.
Her ache was his silence.
She tried to grow, to change
to become the woman
transformed from the
longing little girl
of days gone by.
But as she looked in
his eyes now, there was
a dullness, an emptiness
and not the radiant
gold flecks that once
melted her heart.
Had she waited too long
to come back,
or was she seeing
for the first time
what was always there?

Into the Night (poem)

Barefoot and breathless
I ran through the
thick darkened forest
following a light,
a shooting star, or
fragment from the moon,
either way
I must find it soon!
It flashed before my eyes,
dancing in the sky
like a butterfly might
playing with the night.













Scurrying like a mouse
on fallen tree brush,
feeling little pricks
piercing under foot.
It was on this night
a clear and starless sky
it emerged from the darkness
glowing like a firefly.
I search and search
but sleepy I am
and out of breath
I rest my head
against the comfort of
an old tree friend,
and in the early morning
what to my wondrous delight
I awaken to find
dancing beside me
A spirited, sparkly sprite!

Sunday Whispers

Sunday morning has always been that day when inspiration strikes, epiphanies come to life, and there is more self-realization. It's like a higher consciousness is trickling down information in little bits, bringing the picture of life into greater focus. For me, usually at an unexpected moment, I understand what small greatness has come my way. And not to say that what is imparted is a valued material thing, like tickets to a show, or those great new shoes I've had my eye on, but it's insight - perceived by a thought or feeling that comes over you independent of yourself, and it always feels wonderful. Like how my daughter felt the first time she realized how to ride her bicycle free of training wheels. It frees us from perplexion or confusion.

I believe life is a schoolroom where we have to listen more than anything, as we are given answers, answers that bring truth, comfort, and greater calm. Learning how to navigate through this complex place we call life is very challenging at times, but if you listen close enough, and are receptive, there is guidance and direction when it is most needed.

A New Poem: Faith in Medicine

A believer knows what's true
in his own heart
allowing the bleed
to unbleed as those
dressed in white stand
over this believer and
take their eight years
of acquired knowledge
and fix the bleed, repair
the hole, remove the mass.
They do it with swift motion
unblinking as they embrace
the insides of humanity
while most fear the
truths of how
our bodies live,
and how they may die.

Feeling good on this Tuesday!

Today, looking good so far. I received excellent news from my local breast center that in fact, I am breast cancer free - always good to know! I was nervous when they called me back in for additional pictures, but my worries have been laid to rest. It definitely pays to go sooner than you think you need to - early detection is everything!

Also, was ripped off by a fraudulent, Moscowian Internet-based company on Easter Sunday - of all days. Those crooks essentially sold me a Trojan virus disguised as security software - how nice of them! However, after submitting a fraud report today with my bank, I was assured that I should be receiving my money back very soon - all $106!

One final and very HAPPY note. I have a coffee date with a cute, smart, creatively talented drummer next Wednesday. It's just coffee and maybe a stroll, but hey, I am SO hopeful here. Love those deep, soulful musicians!

Hope you're having an equally pleasant Tuesday!

Change (Poem)

Time moves swiftly
as we transform our figures,
revolutionize our thinking,
temper our love.
Everything changes:
the seasons,
the skies,
even the ocean tides.
Political figures,
high school teachers,
college majors too;
without change
life would never feel new.
We’d wear the same old clothes,
watch the same old TV shows.
Our jobs would always be the same;
no promotions, no acclaim.
Every thing that touches our lives
would simply remain
if there was never change.

Staying Calm, Feeling Cool, Looking Collected

How many times have we heard that? Calm, cool, and collected. And every time we do, we get this mental image of someone who is composed and has it all under control. The calm is what perplexes me... how to stay calm sometimes when circumstances call for losing it bad. The panic ensues, the heart pounds a little heavier, there is the instant flush to the cheeks, and then there is the full-blown irrational thinking. If I didn't know I was talking about stress, I'd say that sounds a lot like the symptoms that occur when your secret crush asks you what time it is, or if the copier is working. The mouth and tongue just can't seem to form words together... it's a mess. Don't ask... I just know about these things!

Anyway, there is nothing worse than seeing those scary pop-ups telling you, "YOU HAVE A VIRUS AND IT IS GOING TO TANK YOUR COMPUTER ANY SECOND!!!" Okay, that's a slight exaggeration but that's the internals talking. That's how we read it. How about when you take your car to the mechanic for an oil change and they say, "Have you ever replaced the transmission in your car?" Is that supposed to be their subtle way of telling me I'm going to need to? Right then, I'm in panic mode, thinking "Oh my God, how much is that going to cost? And how do I know this guy evens know what he's talking about?" Still, he knows more than me in this instance and I am at his mercy. Not feeling calm, cool, or collected at this moment at all.

How to overcome it? It's not easy. I was panic girl for a long time, and it literally drains the life out of you! It takes time to learn to stop the immediate panic that is about to set in, and try to think about the situation as if it is not happening to you. Then try to minimize its significance by thinking about all the better things that are going on, and the grander picture of your life. Minimizing is key, and seeing a solution instead of a problem that is about to consume you. There's this talking to yourself that takes place, and you say, "It's okay, let me just try to fix it" or "I'm sure there's a way to handle this."

The dryer died last week at 8:00 at night, a school night, and I had two loads of wet laundry to deal with. I didn't lose it, I didn't focus on how mad and frustrated I was, but I got Aziza, put all the wet clothes in the car, and we went to the local laundromat and dried the clothes. I brought a book, she brought her DS, and we sat there and waited for the clothes to dry. What else could I do, right? "Just deal with it" is my main motto that I try to reiterate to myself when anything seemingly insurmountable comes my way. And each time I avert panic, there is less panic the next time, and even less the next.

So, I'm going to keep keepin' on with my self-therapy, and who knows, maybe one day I'll be the one people are looking at and thinking, "How does she stay so calm?"

Is it a dream or are those sirens I hear?

What a day. It began at 6:30 this morning as I was woken by the siren sounds of ambulances coming down my street. I thought for a brief moment, that moment in between dream and reality, that I was in an episode of Grey's Anatomy. Lifetime Television airs the reruns three times a night, from Monday to Friday, and I am hooked!

But no, the dream quickly lifted into a surge of panic, as I jumped out of bed to see where the sounds were headed. In not too long a time, I soon noticed that they had come to my neighbor's door, and left just as quickly. There was no one on the gurney when they returned to the ambulance, and there was no one they would be taking with them to the hospital. So soon after their departure, the sobbing, the moaning, and the desperation in her voice began. My new neighbor of only one month, had woken that morning to find her 33-year-old husband dead in their kitchen. He was young, he was a probation officer, he had a wife who loved him, three small beautiful children, and one big addiction to prescription pain medication.

The police combed the house for drugs. The wife, the children, were not permitted inside the house. No, the wife could not sit by her dead husband, while the agony of her loss ripped through her chest. The children were quickly sent away to be with other family members, should they dare see how their father looked at the end of his life.

About three or four hours later, there was quiet on the street, the body was taken away, and the wife has not yet returned home, where the life she knew, no longer exists.

Update: Aziza rides a two-wheeler!!!

Two-Wheeler Troubles

My daughter, Aziza, is having a very difficult time getting rid of the training wheels. She tried to ride a two-wheeler again today, but only found herself sweaty, frustrated, and about to yell at the bike--yes, I said yell at the bike! She got off it and just let it just fall to the floor, like she wanted the bike to feel the pain of crashing down on the sidewalk. Obviously, she was was pretty upset with it, and that was the worst she could do to it. She's convinced that the reason she can't ride the bike is because the "stupid bike" keeps making her fall over.

With her brows furrowed and arms crossed, she stayed that way the whole ride home from her friend Emma's house. Biggest problem is balancing and unfortunately, right now, she thinks it has nothing to do with her. "The bike won't stay up!" she says with exasperation. "Yes, I know, honey, but that's because you have to keep it up," I tell her. Poor kid, I know it's not easy. From what I can remember, holding the bike steady without tipping over as you try to steer, was no easy feat for anyone the first, second, or even the third try out.

She just turned eight and it has to be bothering her that some of her friends can ride their bikes without training wheels. She knows it's time to learn, but I wish she wouldn't give up so easily. I told her, "See yourself riding the bike without the training wheels, see it in your mind, and it will happen! Have confidence and don't give up and you will get it!" Then I said, "Okay, want to try again tomorrow?" She looked at me with a "What are you nuts?" type look, and simply said, "Nope." Oh well, I'm sure we'll get it... eventually.

Where the Road Begins

At twenty-seven I started to write poetry, not very good poetry, but nonetheless, it seemed to soothe my soul. As time moved on, I wrote more and more, always poetry, and then other times I would keep a daily journal. I carried a small notebook everywhere I went, and I would furiously write in it all the time. It was my way of recording what I was seeing in the world, and then my feelings about it. It was therapeutic, cathartic, and enlightening at times.

I remember going to a few psychics over the years, and each one would ask me the same thing, "Do you write?" Each time I would be amazed that they picked up on it. They told me to keep doing it no matter how much I felt like giving it up. They said if you continue with it, you will be published one day. Now that is very vague, but why mention writing? That would have been too lucky a guess. Anyhow, of course they never told me when this would happen. They can't really. Time is something that has so many unexpected variables, it's easy to get hung up where things will take longer than they should have.

I've never forgotten what they said though, and I keep that in the back of my mind, believing that maybe one day I will be good enough, and have the confidence to move forward and go after it. To have a written work published is probably the greatest achievement for anyone who loves to write. It's a validation, a symbol that it's real and not just a notion in our minds. That book is somewhere being pulled off the shelf, and someone is gently thumbing through the pages to get a feel for it, see if they should take it home. They're holding it in their hands and they're reading it. It's real.

Being a writer - Is it a dream we can't let go of? Is it a destiny of some divine plan? Is it a passion we can't shake from our core? It's all those things, I think, that make up who we are, and what we're meant to do. Every day when you believe in yourself a little bit more, you find the roadmap gets easier to follow. The direction takes shape, and that one road, that one squiggly line, is yours and you're the only one traveling on it. I think we all have our own map, with our own special squiggly line, and we just have to know when it's time to follow it.

Being Whole (Poem)

I was missing something.
I searched my pockets,
my purse, and even sought to
burrow through my desk.
A piece of me is missing.
Was it this day I lost it
Or has it been long gone?
But what is this piece,
this fragment of my whole?
I am an incomplete jigsaw
lain on the table with a hole
where the missing piece
would perfectly fit.
This defining part
all but the last
In the mystery titled, “Self.”
But what is this
fragment of self-discovery
ready to unveil the truth
of what my heart and soul
has never told my mind.
My purpose, my passion
the answer to who I am
and who I should become.
Can all this be explained
In one tiny bit?
One missing strand?
Ahh, to find a pebble
amidst a sea of stones
that shines just for me.