6.24.2009
Timing
"Life is about timing." Carl Lewis
Time
I've been thinking a lot - sorta stuck in my own head lately... not too outwardly focused, although I'm not sure anyone would really recognize it. I'm still maintaining this state of peace, at least for the most part. It's not that I'm lost, or searching, I just sorta feel like I'm looking at life as if it were a painting hanging in an art gallery, my head sorta tilted, studying the brush strokes and the colors... trying to interpret its meaning. The painting keeps morphing and I can't quite get a grasp on it, and I'm frustrated and fascinated at the same time.
The more I stare I become convinced of one thing: timing is, indeed, everything. It's all about seizing that moment and taking advantage of opportunities. It's about calculation and cunning... always being able to turn and twist anything and everything to your advantage. And as backwards as it may seem, I think those people who are the most skilled at doing this are those who do it completely on instinct... those who don't even realize they do it.
"Timing and arrogance are decisive factors in the successful use of talent." Marya Mannes
Time After Time
A suitcase of memories... is that all I'm left with, little flashes of might have been? I have such shitty timing. I used to think the essence of timing was patience; I'm not so sure that's really true. I seem to be ahead or behind, always off cadence. I'm always trying to do the right fucking thing - and it seems I miss out because of it. It's not that I'm a push over, it's not that I'm timid. I can be stubborn and tenacious when the occasion calls but this is different... this isn't that. I don't know how to fix it, my timing... maybe I can't. I should know better by now, can't always fix things. Sometimes things are just the way they are... no rhyme or reason - no explanations - no formulas.
It's strange. Maybe the painting I'm trying to interpret is me, my life. Maybe I'm puzzled by the images I see on the canvas... images of my choices, my mistakes, my glories. Where do they all fit, how did they get me to where I am right now? And timing - seeing all those moments I was too soon or too late for, always unsure. I'm forty three now - I'm at the pinnacle. From this vantage I can see behind me and I can see in front of me - and I'm wondering... I'm staring at this work, this art, and I'm not so sure it's a masterpiece. I'm wondering - is it just a commercial piece of crap?
Time
I've been thinking a lot - sorta stuck in my own head lately... not too outwardly focused, although I'm not sure anyone would really recognize it. I'm still maintaining this state of peace, at least for the most part. It's not that I'm lost, or searching, I just sorta feel like I'm looking at life as if it were a painting hanging in an art gallery, my head sorta tilted, studying the brush strokes and the colors... trying to interpret its meaning. The painting keeps morphing and I can't quite get a grasp on it, and I'm frustrated and fascinated at the same time.
The more I stare I become convinced of one thing: timing is, indeed, everything. It's all about seizing that moment and taking advantage of opportunities. It's about calculation and cunning... always being able to turn and twist anything and everything to your advantage. And as backwards as it may seem, I think those people who are the most skilled at doing this are those who do it completely on instinct... those who don't even realize they do it.
"Timing and arrogance are decisive factors in the successful use of talent." Marya Mannes
Time After Time
A suitcase of memories... is that all I'm left with, little flashes of might have been? I have such shitty timing. I used to think the essence of timing was patience; I'm not so sure that's really true. I seem to be ahead or behind, always off cadence. I'm always trying to do the right fucking thing - and it seems I miss out because of it. It's not that I'm a push over, it's not that I'm timid. I can be stubborn and tenacious when the occasion calls but this is different... this isn't that. I don't know how to fix it, my timing... maybe I can't. I should know better by now, can't always fix things. Sometimes things are just the way they are... no rhyme or reason - no explanations - no formulas.
It's strange. Maybe the painting I'm trying to interpret is me, my life. Maybe I'm puzzled by the images I see on the canvas... images of my choices, my mistakes, my glories. Where do they all fit, how did they get me to where I am right now? And timing - seeing all those moments I was too soon or too late for, always unsure. I'm forty three now - I'm at the pinnacle. From this vantage I can see behind me and I can see in front of me - and I'm wondering... I'm staring at this work, this art, and I'm not so sure it's a masterpiece. I'm wondering - is it just a commercial piece of crap?
6.22.2009
6.20.2009
Belle Needs a Bath
I need a bath. Not that I really smell bad or anything. I just need to go out and I don't like to go unless I'm daisy fresh. I need to go shopping - not exactly what I really want to do but I suppose I will be a wonderful mother and take my daughter shopping so she can find something for her father for Father's Day. There is also a bathing suit she wants (Lord help me) and I thought perhaps we could celebrate my first paycheck by purchasing it. And then of course there is pesky Father's Day to deal with - and I have no flippin' idea what to do for him... neither does daughter. It's a pretty sad state of affairs, the fact we don't know anything about him on which to base buying a gift. Gifts should be reflections of that person, I think, something that they like, or enjoy. I have no idea what he likes or enjoys... I don't even know what kind of food he eats these days. Everything I once knew about him no longer applies. I asked the kids what they thought and all they knew were beer and tobacco products and his local bar hangout. Not a lot to base a gift on...
I really couldn't care less whether or not the ex has a gift, but that's not the point - the point is teaching my daughter to look outside herself... which she does pretty well for the most part. She doesn't feel a connection to him though. She was three when all this started with him, and now she's almost fourteen - that's a long time to neglect a relationship, a long time to let it atrophy. It was a hard, hard thing to let go of - that desperation to "fix" it. I tried for years, that is I tried to keep a connection of sorts between the two of them. I made him look like something other than who he was, I made excuses for him, I put on a brave face. In the end he resented it I think. I guess that makes sense to me, the resentment - oh, definitely misplaced I think, but in the grand scheme it makes sense. I was trying to protect them, I guess from the knowledge he was less than involved, less than plugged into them - us - than he should have been... but who am I to say what should have been?
And I get that now. He had to rise and fall on his own merits, so to speak. When I stopped trying to juggle the balls, when it all fell to the ground, I stepped back and let it go. It was a painful thing, not because of me, but because I had to stand back and watch the kids struggle - I had to watch their pain and accept I had no power to make it go away. And anyone who is a parent knows how that feels. There isn't much we won't do for them. Yeah, we weigh indulgence with lessons - we don't necessarily give them all they want even if we're capable of doing so. We know that creates monsters - selfish adults with a sick idea that the world owes them something. So we balance it all. But when you watch your child in pain, watch your child struggle with the pain, the hurt, the loss... it tears you up, it creates a feeling inside - a feeling of, gee, how to describe it? Frustration? Anger? Rage? An instinct kicks in, and animalistic sense to protect.
And this pain, this hurt my children were feeling, experiencing, it wasn't just life - ya know? It wasn't that a friend let them down, or they lost a competition, or failed a test. Their father hurt them, their father abandoned them, their father rejected them. And there is a difference. Lots of couples divorce. Lots of couples go their separate ways, but they don't walk away from their children. Conversely I also know my children aren't unique. There are parents out there - mothers and fathers - who walk out doors and don't look back. Mothers and fathers who have sporadic interaction with their children, a limited knowledge of who their children are. And you could say there are intact families where that situation exists also - I'm not discounting any of that. All I know is my experience... and I watched my children in pain. And right or wrong I still carry that image in me -
So - not exactly what I had planned on writing but I guess it's what I've been thinking about somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind. Guess I should go shower now, huh?
I really couldn't care less whether or not the ex has a gift, but that's not the point - the point is teaching my daughter to look outside herself... which she does pretty well for the most part. She doesn't feel a connection to him though. She was three when all this started with him, and now she's almost fourteen - that's a long time to neglect a relationship, a long time to let it atrophy. It was a hard, hard thing to let go of - that desperation to "fix" it. I tried for years, that is I tried to keep a connection of sorts between the two of them. I made him look like something other than who he was, I made excuses for him, I put on a brave face. In the end he resented it I think. I guess that makes sense to me, the resentment - oh, definitely misplaced I think, but in the grand scheme it makes sense. I was trying to protect them, I guess from the knowledge he was less than involved, less than plugged into them - us - than he should have been... but who am I to say what should have been?
And I get that now. He had to rise and fall on his own merits, so to speak. When I stopped trying to juggle the balls, when it all fell to the ground, I stepped back and let it go. It was a painful thing, not because of me, but because I had to stand back and watch the kids struggle - I had to watch their pain and accept I had no power to make it go away. And anyone who is a parent knows how that feels. There isn't much we won't do for them. Yeah, we weigh indulgence with lessons - we don't necessarily give them all they want even if we're capable of doing so. We know that creates monsters - selfish adults with a sick idea that the world owes them something. So we balance it all. But when you watch your child in pain, watch your child struggle with the pain, the hurt, the loss... it tears you up, it creates a feeling inside - a feeling of, gee, how to describe it? Frustration? Anger? Rage? An instinct kicks in, and animalistic sense to protect.
And this pain, this hurt my children were feeling, experiencing, it wasn't just life - ya know? It wasn't that a friend let them down, or they lost a competition, or failed a test. Their father hurt them, their father abandoned them, their father rejected them. And there is a difference. Lots of couples divorce. Lots of couples go their separate ways, but they don't walk away from their children. Conversely I also know my children aren't unique. There are parents out there - mothers and fathers - who walk out doors and don't look back. Mothers and fathers who have sporadic interaction with their children, a limited knowledge of who their children are. And you could say there are intact families where that situation exists also - I'm not discounting any of that. All I know is my experience... and I watched my children in pain. And right or wrong I still carry that image in me -
So - not exactly what I had planned on writing but I guess it's what I've been thinking about somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind. Guess I should go shower now, huh?
6.16.2009
Movies
Sweet Home Alabama is on - I've seen it many a time - even watched it with a friend once... some great lines even if it's a tad bit cheesy - "You can have roots and wings..."
Long Time
I've not really been neglecting my blog - not really... I've been really busy is all, and I've sorta been, well, kinda speechless. I know... hard to believe but I have been. And also my desktop 'puter is on the fritz and I've been using son's old laptop because he has a new laptop he bought with some of his grad money. Must be nice I say - 'cause I was all ready to go out and purchase myself a new laptop (nothing too fancy mind you, just new and all mine) when sonny boy's car decided to get sick and now what I would have used to buy my computer will go toward making sure he has reliable transportation as he starts a new job - which at the moment might be either a humdrum job or a fantastic opportunity (we're still waiting to hear about the fantastic opportunity). Whew - what a run on long ass paragraph - sorry....
Work has been going really well... I go to Columbia tomorrow for some training and I'm actually looking forward to it - I'm sorta geeky that way - I like learning stuff. I think, where this job is concerned, that I can become really good at it - which, I must confess surprises me just a tiny bit - I never really fancied myself in a "social work" kinda job but that's where I am... and I'm working with children, in a direct, yet indirect way. I definitely have potetial where the job is concerned - and that's a great feeling.
I'm counting down to another birthday - woohoo! Not sure how I feel about that. It doesn't bother me in the respect I'm another year older - limping my way toward my mid forties, just a few more years and I will be there... it's just, I guess, that I know the older I get the more time I've lost in regard to sharing myself with someone. I participated in the celebration of some friends' twenty fifth anniversary... it was a lovely party and I felt happy for them... it was nice to see it can actually happen - two people making it work. But there was a tiny part of me that was envious. Not envious in that I had bad feelings for them, only in so much that I realized I most likely won't reach that milestone. A big part of me is ok with it - sad yes, but ok. Another much smaller part is angry... angry that I got robbed. Not so much really that I wanted to go back there - not so much that I wish I had it all back, but really that I feel like I wasted so much. Time. Effort. Emotion. Trust. Love. And it's sad to feel like I put so much of myself into something that just wasn't, in the long run, viable. It feels different these days, this knowledge. I guess that's progress.
So... that's it - the state of the union. Perhaps sometime soon my voice will come back.
Work has been going really well... I go to Columbia tomorrow for some training and I'm actually looking forward to it - I'm sorta geeky that way - I like learning stuff. I think, where this job is concerned, that I can become really good at it - which, I must confess surprises me just a tiny bit - I never really fancied myself in a "social work" kinda job but that's where I am... and I'm working with children, in a direct, yet indirect way. I definitely have potetial where the job is concerned - and that's a great feeling.
I'm counting down to another birthday - woohoo! Not sure how I feel about that. It doesn't bother me in the respect I'm another year older - limping my way toward my mid forties, just a few more years and I will be there... it's just, I guess, that I know the older I get the more time I've lost in regard to sharing myself with someone. I participated in the celebration of some friends' twenty fifth anniversary... it was a lovely party and I felt happy for them... it was nice to see it can actually happen - two people making it work. But there was a tiny part of me that was envious. Not envious in that I had bad feelings for them, only in so much that I realized I most likely won't reach that milestone. A big part of me is ok with it - sad yes, but ok. Another much smaller part is angry... angry that I got robbed. Not so much really that I wanted to go back there - not so much that I wish I had it all back, but really that I feel like I wasted so much. Time. Effort. Emotion. Trust. Love. And it's sad to feel like I put so much of myself into something that just wasn't, in the long run, viable. It feels different these days, this knowledge. I guess that's progress.
So... that's it - the state of the union. Perhaps sometime soon my voice will come back.
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