I have found

Jack is being bullied at school, and for that I'm worried that he may come to the turning point. That place in which you lose your exuberance for life, or allow the world to come in and totally fuck with you. That is when, whatever inkling that you felt of the world maybe taking care of you, becomes so diminished that for awhile the darkness descends; or maybe not. He's not me and I don't want to personalize or internalize everything that happens to members of my family, but there is no way that I can allow that kind of trouble in this little man's life. I don't know how to teach kids how not to be bullied, but I do know what it means to have someone be an advocate and remind you that middle school is a small institutional setting that makes for uneasy alliances and casual brutality.

Searching in the sun

I have an 18 year old son. Letting that one sink in for awhile; it's pretty enormous in a multitude of ways. As of yesterday, I have three teenage sons at home, and boy are my arms tired. We are doing a lot of reflecting, on births, experiences surrounding them and of course, on the outcome. It's a nice way to kind of sum up the last almost half of my life. Eamon and I have been talking about some of the "mistakes" we've made, moves that we really didn't think about and lamenting bad financial decisions. It's all fine and good as long as we don't continue the behaviors, the impulsive way we've done some things that have brought us to where we are today. And where is that, but lovely Cleveland. We ended up back here as a couple twice and for me it is an additional two times. So, four times I returned to this area after having lived away. And, now, I'm just not getting it; what could have possibly drawn me here other than something subterranean and not to obvious because on that level, the one that smacks me in the face almost everyday there is no answer.

I slept sweetly unpretending

I've been waiting for it my entire life, as long as I can remember I've been expecting something big to happen. Have we all, is this the human condition, one of the things that connects us, that we all have in common but don't necessarily articulate?
Whatever, what the fuck am I waiting for, because at this point I don't think it's going to be happening. I've resigned myself to middle age, to not mattering to younger people and not being able to join the early birds'; sort of like my life as a heavy woman, I wasn't big enough for the fetishists, but I was never thin enough either. Being invisible doesn't matter as much as it used to, however, finding a happy medium is a tad illusive, in that I'm still going to be waiting for it and I'm going to have to assume it's the end or nothing which becomes the same thing I reckon.

I talk out loud like you're still around

I am Legend is a good movie because it doesn't forfeit story for sentimentality. There, I've said it in the most succinct way I possibly could. Alas, that is never enough. I have to blather on and on about the meaning behind the virus, and the magnitude of seeing the streets of new york empty of people, with it being very clear that it was not all CGI, which certainly heightens the tension and realty. I might have to also add that Will Smith can act and that I hadn't even wanted to see it, but there was nothing else playing for an hour, and Gus screamed at me in the cold lobby of the theater, that I had promised him we would see Cloverfield, and I had actually wanted to see There Will be Blood, but couldn't bring my scallywag sons because it's rated R. So, all the pieces were in place to make it a pleasant surprise, well, not pleasant but certainly compelling. There are monsters, and they're the same ones from The Descent because apparently heroin chic is in for zombies too these days. But beyond them and the other obligatory aspects, the movie followed through on not being as uplifting as it could have, and for that, I'm grateful.

Moving up slowly

Call me naive. Now that's done, let's move on to what may seem like some crappy ass Living section of a newspaper commentary, but here goes; Can activity not just be for fun anymore, must someone or some group always come along and make a casual swim or a run around the block some formal, highly competitive and usually way too long endurance test like event.
The answer is clearly yes.
Gus stopped playing baseball at around ten years old and that was because he was not interested in being sworn at by the coach, or letting down the other players because he might have been daydreaming about Lego when he was in the field and missed a catch. I can't imagine that kids who just love the water and want to swim, all want to win so badly it hurts. However, because the people who rule all of the world want everything to be about winning and coming in first, anything fun just becomes war.

Now I've got myself lost

Any way you slice it I'm going to feel guilty about some thing or another. Either it's going to be about not being available for work when they're in a bind, or not being here for the boys when they get home from school, not giving Eamon enough lovin, it's far too much and I can't do it all, but boy am I going to try and then fail and then not understand why I walk around feeling torn most of the time.
Charvez pointed it out and made it all so clear in that no matter how hard I try, I will fail for someone or something. It's a shitty way to go through the world, and one might consider taking another approach, and at times I manage to actually speak my mind or choose not to do something that I don't really want to do. But, for the most part I get stuck in the place in between.
In addition, I had a dream that my old boyfriend and Eamon got into a fist fight, and it was of course, right in front of me, though Eamon was at work and subsequently got fired for the altercation. Anxiety much.

Before the clouds appear

I am going to try and reconcile the bad things that happen in my home by channeling someone else. It's going to be a cheesy touchy feely kind of thing, but what it's going to provide is a starting point for a hopefully more peaceful environment.
The thing is, is that we all know it works and the other stuff doesn't. But, the rational place we can find ourselves in when there is nothing tugging at our emotions, is a very different place compared to what it feels like when you find that someone has broken another door, or punched another brother, or even gone on your laptop which is verboten beyond verbotentown.
Jake doesn't see me as someone who has any legitimacy and for some reason, and I can't quite put my finger on why, but it really bothers me.
So, the solution for dealing with him is to meet him on his own terms, use the skills he has learned and subsequently discarded, and watch the short circuit magic.

Hard to come by

When I was in eighth grade, I was deep into my socialistic, borderline communist phase, replete with not standing for the pledge of allegiance and taking the hassling with the ACLU in my back pocket.
My dad had a copy of Mao's little red book and I brought it to school and I remember discussing the contents in a social studies class and then someone stole it, ah the irony, even then it was not lost on me.
At some point in that same classroom, there was a day of role playing and I was designated to be a Chinese peasant which was, as far as I was concerned more than fine; I was in my element, discussing the revolution and what it had meant for millions, as if I knew anything about anything.
Mr. Berry seemed to be a well liked teacher at the school, he had the requisite 70's shaggy hair and was down with us young folk. But, in retrospect I realize he didn't like being challenged in any sort of intellectual or meaningful way, and during the "role playing" I felt legitimized enough to actually let loose and provide the logical and somewhat beyond the level of an classroom argument of my belief system. During a heated discussion with what should have been a student but ended up being the teacher, Mr. Berry was yelling at me and ended up calling me a "pig" and then after about five seconds added the word peasant. It hit me like a brick and I reflect on the physicality of it now and remember not breathing for awhile because I was scared that if I did, I would begin to cry. There was a stunned silence in the room and perhaps that was a good thing, that we all were in some way affected by his loss of control, and that the enormity of the humiliation was not lost on these generally pretty awful kids. My friend Tenna, leaned into me and asked if I was okay, and right there the spell was broken. Without that question, I may have had to harbor that experience alone but what she did was take me out of the solitude of the experience and make it one that was shared.

A hat full of hope

We had a bit of a hoedown at the Ponderosa last night. It was, and I'll put this delicately, gruesome and pretty overpowering. I think that this time of year has essential characteristics of madness and chaos. It's no accident that the most holy of days for some, and the darkest shortest lousiest day come all at the same time.
It got so bad, and to know Echo, is to get a glimmer of the level of tension that we had to machete our way through, she was so scared of Eamon that she snapped at him and peed in our bed as he was trying to pick her up to be taken outside.
Today with the rising of the sun, came a brightness that had been missing for the last week. I'm going to say that it was a step towards normalization. The old man went to work, and we started to pick up the pieces of our shattered lives and, I returned to the land of the Internet hostesses, replete with snapping fingers and "hey, Miss!"