When all else fails

What motivates people, how do they know when they are supposed to get up and move on to the next thing? For the most part, I'm a watcher, I watch people and analyze behavior. It's what and who I am. So, as the guy who had been sitting at his laptop started to pack up his belongings I considered, that he might have to be somewhere, or the internal clock said it was time to scram.
As for bigger and better things; I wonder how many assassinations and CoupD'etat this country's government representatives are responsible for; all of them, some, car accidents, plane crashes, reasonable leaders being removed and horrible multi-national proxy replacing what could have been a stabilizing and peaceful force, all in the name of oil, drugs, money, power, sex, salt, coinage, skins, hides, ivory, or just ever lovin life.

Look me in the eye

I made some art over the weekend. I've been planning it for weeks. I had purchased an old cigar box and knew that I wanted to make a collection, assemblage if you will. And then it begins. I couldn't quite find the right background, so I kept ripping them off and starting over. Then when I did find the picture that worked, I cut it too narrow. And, so on; I talk to myself, knowing there is the part that can't actually be satisfied with the effort. That like the one epic poem I wrote, I can never get out into the world the ideas that I want to create in a tactile form. Eventually, it came together and I like it. But, is it as I imagined? Not even close, nothing ever is, so I wonder, when do I try not to live up to the standard.

Despite encouragement

As I've mentioned, I have Sirius radio free for 6 months, and I'm on month three. There is a dilemma; of course. I really like it but the pleasure is a guilty one. There is no local, college or anything that is not sort of canned. It's muzak for the 21st century, not that I am complaining, I'm merely observing the phenomenon. The best part is this, my friend Jeff who years ago told me about getting satellite radio, and paying for a lifetime subscription, which I found to be odd, but now am thinking him the man with his finger on the pulse, he was telling me about making songs favorites so that when one is being played on another of the three hundred and fifty trillion other stations, the radio let's you know. So, I listened and appreciated his information but knew I would never figure that stuff out, being that I'm driving and all. Well, the Gusser came along and made it all so. But, unfortunately I hit the wrong button when trying to make a song part of the saved list, and now Gilbert O'Sullivan's Alone Again Naturally can be heard in my car at any given moment

Put it in neutral

When I was young I remember seething with anger and frustration about countless injustices.
Today, I'm feeling that again and even with my matured mindset I want to explode.
I was listening to Jack and Gus play a board game, which was their last resort once I had taken everything else away; so they were each being inflexible and difficult. There was no fun being had, and it was a game.
When Gus was young, and Jack slept for twenty minute intervals for two years which left me somewhat drained, I would rest on the couch and we would "play" Chutes and Ladders. What this consisted of was Gus making the moves for both of us and me adding a participatory grunt of interest every few minutes while I dozed. Now that, is the kind playing strategy and low key competition I can be down with.

Not at me

Eamon and I went to Nighttown Wednesday night, to see a band. We were breezy in our summer clothes and me in my high gladiator sandals. The music was Brazilian, the glasses were tinkling, it was everything I hoped for. Then I noticed my purse vibrating and went into the anteroom to call home. Apparently Gus shot Jack with his own Nerf gun. Is there anything more insulting then your own weapon being used on you. Yes, there is and it's my children trying to control me, unconsciously of course, by calling. I can't turn the phone off, Jack is plugged in to a heart monitor and that would be downright irresponsible, but I wish that the usage was actually for emergencies and such as opposed to play by play of foam battles. We were home before dark and I knew that Gus would be almost human with Jack being tethered to the wires. It all was fine in the end, but it's somewhat hard knowing that I can never really just be; there will always be a level that is not in the moment and enjoying the experience, but watching and listening for something or other.

I have often said

I wanted to post a poem and then had second thoughts as if I might be too self indulgent. Um, a blog is a little bit of that me thinks. I had another little midlife moment a few weeks ago. It's hard when you've been losing a sense of self on a regular basis. It becomes all encompassing and then you remember to leave it, and subsequently on to other more valuable lessons, like check the expiration date on your Chuck E. Cheese coupons.
So I was listening to the radio, and heard a song by Bonnie Prince Billy that I had to have. It was on the way to work and once there, I figured out what song it was and then pursued information on the band as is my method for most interests; I have to ultimately know as much as I can. and then of course it's too much.
I had watched Old Joy a few months ago, and was annoyed by the character "Kurt". I knew he was Will Oldham, singer, but I didn't know he was BPB, which all of a sudden makes him not quite so annoying. Then, I found out he was in John Sayle's Matewan, which makes him the next Mr. O'Neill.

In your best interest

I think being ambidextrous has contributed to my confusion and lack of a finite type of personality. This was not a quick conclusion on my part, I've been pondering it for years and after my pedicure on Thursday I'm pretty sure of it. Neither of my "sides" is the dominant one in all realms of physical or psychological arenas. I step first with my right foot, but throw a mean southpaw punch. Catch and throw left and hold all paddles, rackets and writing instruments on the right side.
Okay, so what I see as the problem is that most people are considered either left or right brain personalities, so if you use both coterminously then perhaps this attribute is the key to why I am what I am, at least for today's portion of our show.

At it's very best

Can you afford to be generous when you have a lot of money, or can you be humble when you are considered beautiful to and by many? I'm thinking about these things because Lebron James is fulfilling all of what I think an athlete should be; fair minded, a good sport, team player and all around good guy. So, does he have these attributes because he is so talented, or is it that he has always been that way and just happens to stand out as unique because so many other players really don't want to play for the game, but to win and for the payday.
I watched the Cavaliers win the Eastern Conference championship. Gus came into the room and then Jake and we screamed and paced. I felt very regular for once and a kinship to the joy of winning because you deserve to for playing well and being good at what you do without cutting corners or being intimidating. I could be all wrong, he could be a bully and not such a nice person, but based on what I saw, in comparison to the Pistons, he was angelic.

What I might say

Jake left today, his trip was a whirlwind of social events and we saw him for about an hour when you put it all together. I'm thinking he had a good time and did everything he wanted. He went to his friends prom, spent the night at an after party, went to Cedar Point and then today I took him out to breakfast and shopping for some clothes. What more could a boy ask for. His brothers saw very little of him, so I think for them it was almost as if he wasn't even here. I feel bad for Jack because I know he misses Jake and wanted to reconnect.
I remember when I was young and it was me who yearned for my sibling to spend some time with me, it was always them visiting with a friend or a boyfriend so lost was I in the mix. Family stuff is hard. It seems that you really don't begin to matter until you're far away and then people realize they miss you until you come back again.

Something in me

I've been in the market for humus. So, I made some calls, waited and got no return. I'm used to that because no one calls me back. I don't have a complex about it, I've just come to accept that I don't really play a huge role in any one's life, except a select few, and that's fine and dandy.
Ray called me back twice, with a tired voice late last night and then early this morning, and we bartered over dirt and he delivered. During the negotiation, he asked if I wanted four cubic yards, and I said no, that my husband would kill me if I got that much I just wanted two. So when he got here with like eight, and came out apologizing about how the guy loaded too much and let him have it for the same price as two, I made him stop and wait and tell Eamon so I would not pay the price with hours of bitching. Eamon, Gus, Jack and I with a brief visit from Jake before he went to the mall with friends, shoveled for hours, in the hot sun. When I couldn't lift my arms anymore, I knew we'd reached our quota for the day, and that after twenty years together, my old man can still pull it off.