Who's to say what's impossible

I always think that I communicate well, except when I'm not and those times are glaringly obvious. The little me inside my head is yelling at the big me who's talking nonsense, saying; "stop, bring it on home, you've gone to far." But, I still ramble on knowing it's a lost cause.

Jake has been on my mind, and part of that means that I need to figure out my place and what I'm responsible for in these last interactions that have brought us to this place of an unsettling calm. Sure, I can own up to what I did that wasn't the most mature, or well thought out. But I will justify my actions, words and thoughts with a clear understanding that I am doing my best here. I don't have the best tools regarding parenthood. I do however have a very low threshold for shitty, mean and manipulative; so that gives me at least some checks in the right column.

Wish you gone

How we manage our lives is a matter of coping rather than actual thought out and planned experience. People might believe that they are in charge of their own experience, but the only thing they actually have any say over is whether they get up out of bed or not, the rest is chance and luck. Does that mean I'm not giving credit to hard work and perseverance? Not really, it's more a matter of letting go of the concepts of control and purposefulness.
I kicked Jake out Friday, because he's been impossible. And I mean that in the most literal sense. He refused to go to school for two weeks without a big production and when I wasn't willing to co-star, he just didn't go. The deal with him returning from California, was that he would attend. Then Thursday he said to me something about how if I didn't drive him he would be expelled. It was 11 in the morning, and he was making me responsible for his issues. The Epiphany was a long time coming, however come it did and realizing that I'm to blame for everything regardless of my presence or determination otherwise; was the clincher.

On the surface of the bay

If the longing subsides, what then? Is there a level of contentment that comes with age, perhaps reflection regarding accomplishments, discoveries and consideration of all that you've seen and been through.
But that desire, the one that remains nameless, will it be named later? I think not. I think things of importance just fade and become new things or kids and other distractions. We get an inkling every once in awhile that the underneath is still simmering and vital. Yet with that comes the unrequited and frustration of the unknown. It's all the same, but with a little paunch and some gray at the temples.

To see a little bit clearer

Jake would not go to school yesterday. I tried for three hours on and off, and then I gave up because, really what could I do, he's a lot bigger than me, so a physical interaction wouldn't do the trick. There are around 21 one school days left to the year. In that time, I'm likely to; go all grey, leave my family for good, or possibly start down the path of alcohol, drug and gambling addiction.
Who knows it could be any of those things because it's fucking miserable to wake up five days out of seven knowing that we are going to have to face the same punishing events. It takes some dumb shit song to remind me about mental illness being manifested in behavior that is repetitive yet has the desire for a different outcome. It's not really mental illness, because that is not a behavior based issue, but it is stupid and I can easily attest to that.

Across state lines

I have some of the components of being a successful person, but not all of the parts that I actually need to succeed. I don't have the follow through. It's not that I'm one of those people who starts a bunch of projects but can't finish them. I can finish things, it's just that I can't really do the things that need to be done, to be more than I can be. So, basically, I don't have what it takes. And, what it takes escapes me, or I'd have it.

Eamon is kind of the same, though he did write three screenplays in the last year and a half, and now is trying to make a movie.

Perhaps it's that we don't know how to start certain things. That finding a way to make it happen is not within our grasp. People have said to me that my blog is an accomplishment that over 300 entries and a nice size readership is enough to provide an elevated level of satisfaction, and it is, but I want to accomplish more and, in less time.

It hasn't happened yet

Now that the library system has gone to central selection, which is basically rather than a diverse crew of people picking the titles that the public will read; instead it's a few overpaid, often politically placed, under worldly limited thinkers making all the decisions; so what else is new.
I am sounding frighteningly judgmental, but I think that because elitism goes both ways, making bland choices because the culture is bland, is kind of um, dull.
There is redemption. We can still read the journals that list all of the forthcoming titles. In doing that, I read about this book and am in the process of reading it.
So far, the most important thing I've learned, and there are a number of insights that have kind of eased the sense of isolation regarding death, but for me the clincher was finding out that Gus plays Halo like an addict two days out on a meth binge, because it's his way of overcoming the inevitable end. Go forth I say kill all the animated pixels you can and, be sure to utilize the man-cannon for the good of your psyche.

I want to live like common people

We went to see a Mariachi band tonight, actually, we went to eat out, but I wanted to go and see the band more than I wanted to eat the food.
When I had a show at WCSB, I followed a Spanish music show so for five or more years, All my songs were segued from enthusiastic and rousing sounds from South of the border.
There was a band in the studio one day, a full group taking up the area where all the new music was in bins. I waited and listened until about five minutes before I was supposed to go on the air, and then I started to feel uneasy. I filled two and a half hours of air time, and I really needed to get some stuff together. So, as I am the most graceful of people, I attempted to search unobtrusively yet there was some thumping and subsequently dirty looks from the fellows who were playing their hearts out.
When I was dating an old boyfriend who actually would take me out to dinner, we went to a Peruvian restaurant and it was nice, it was in an old house and it felt cosmopolitan and like I was really living. As the music tinkled in the background, I noticed the sound approaching our table. I looked up just as they were by us starting to play. They stopped abruptly and moved on as we were old friends from earlier that day, and they knew I'd heard it all before.

Every thing you dream

I am always apologizing for things that have nothing or very little to do with me, or anything I've done. I think I'm just saying sorry for existing, having an opinion and if there is anything that I do that might offend, sorry in advance and retroactively. What the fuck? Why do I and many others I've noticed, do it. Is it the equivalent of saying um between words; it isn't actually meaningful in the sense of being sorry for the event, more for the inconvenience or time spent in being helped or listened to.

Gus was supposed to have sent in an application for a summer program at OSU and he "dropped the ball" and didn't complete the task. Of course I take this as a trend rather than an individual experience. So at three this morning I went over in my mind what I needed to say so that he wouldn't see it as a criticism, but as a constructive lesson and something he would learn not to repeat.

Thus, the text I got from him this morning was; "sorry mom, I don't want to be a failure". Yes! Yet another successful parenting session was had. Etre navré

Pay the price

We are probably one of the last public buildings without any surveillance. There are motion detectors, but otherwise, until today, there was no one watching except for those pesky patrons who stare at us for hours on end, yet miss any event that actually might need to be watched. The Security company guy was here today, checking to find the best vantage points for the cameras.

I had just been talking to Eamon about how I read incident reports that always mention a branch checking the "video" to see who had stolen a bike, or walked out of the library with a boatload of DVDs , or was masturbating while watching teen girls be teen girls. Now, we get to join that club of the instant rewind.

In many ways, of course I lament the freedom of not having had to worry about being evaluated from beyond. It was nice not to have been conscious of my movements, idleness or any just regular time spent without having to be aware of the notion of observance. However, many of our cars have been keyed or vandalized and for that, I look forward to watching some prime time foul play.

Cause I won't remember

I contacted Google to find out what the odds are of ;
a)having your picture taken when Google maps is on a road trip and,
b) finding that picture when your co-worker happens to punch into the Google maps, the university address where you work.
Since Google has been remiss in getting back to me, because I don't rank, in that I'm not a writer who tells quirky stories for the New Yorker which, this story would certainly fit with, I consulted with a Professor of Geography ( who also happens to be a specialist where I work ), and asked her what she thought and she calculated that is would be around 10 million to 1, which I think is about right according to my statistical de-coder ring I found in a box of rocks.
There is no exact link to the picture of Eamon, but if you type in east 22nd and Chester Cleveland, Ohio and then click on street level, and go North from Euclid to Chester, there he is standing at the corner as if he's posing for the camera that he doesn't know is there, he in fact is just in the right place at the right time; or not.

Words are made to bend

People appreciate honesty, they really do, yet it's not an initial reaction to most things, and when you are candid and try to cut past the bullshit and mesh curtains of illusion, you're faced with all sorts of bait and switch tactics to distract from the original issue at hand so all becomes lost in a flurry of song and dance.
When people say things and then come up with a defense of ; the words were taken out of context, or you heard it wrong, or that's not what I meant to say, then we are dealing with the hyperreality acceptance that I've given the moniker " that's not what I said and I mean it." I've talked about lying before in a post, but what I've been thinking about is what level of reality people are willing to suspend so as not to have to come clean with an untruth.
At my job, I'm often the person who does things that no one else likes to, and I really don't care most of the time, but a few weeks ago, as I was trying to make a plan for lunch times for my 7 coworkers and myself, someone got very agitated about me writing in a time for her, which I actually did not. It was the person who had been sitting in between us that wrote it in; in another type of pen and different handwriting all together. So, I tried to resolve it by asking her if she'd written the time in and she said no. Well the odd thing is no one else was there, the piece of paper was next to her and she had the pen in her hand, yet she, another adult whom I work with and probably will for years to come, said she hadn't when in reality the pissed off gal and I both know she did and that she is defending a falsehood that was not only unlikely, but extremely retarded.
Where do you go from there? Sure I have no respect for her choice of issues to lie about, but that's all she becomes to me, someone who would defend the indefensible, and unfortunately, she is not alone.