Thinking...

Hmmmm.

My brain is really full, and so is my belly. I am a very lucky girl.

My husband and I decided to try out a seafood dinner, and being from the northern end of the south, it's not something we've experienced all too often. But dinner, much to my surprise, worked out wonderfully.

Not only did the food taste great, but the company was even better. Lately (meaning the last three weeks) we've had so much more time to spend together (without stress) as my schedule has finally settled down. And having more time means I'm less on edge and less 'pressured to perform'. My house is finally clean, my laundry done the way I like it, my fridge full of goodies to cook and I'm typing this while watching complete smut on tv (which for me is [adultswim]).

Life couldn't be better. So because of that, it makes me wonder what's to come. I mean, the two of us have been through a really rough year so far - first I had six upper level classes at school, two plays for my minor, two part time jobs, physical therapy for severe pelvic floor muscle spasms, and to top it off (sort of) mom had her first heart attack of the year in February. After she had a triple bypass, she was also diagnosed with diabetes and sent home. A few days later, my mom went back in the hospital with a second heart attack, but they sent her home telling her it was chest wall pain. In mid-March, my husband and I had a major car accident out of state while attempting to visit potential graduate schools. The next morning, mom's back in the ER with her third heart attack of the year; they determined that her bypass veins collapsed and she had to have stints put in. Meanwhile, my husband and I had to take the train home (after being wonderfully taken care of by his mother and stap-father) because flipping a car over deems it totally ruined.

Without health insurance and because I neglected to purchase collision coverage on the car, my husband and I are facing now over ten thousand dollars in medical expenses, and the total is growing. I still have glass growing out of my scalp and an ankle injury that refuses to heal. I'll know what my options are for the ankle in a couple of days. In the meantime I just have to try not to get hooked on pain pills.

I took two incompletes for the spring semester - one I've since finished, and the other is still pending. Yet, through it all I maintained a 3.5 GPA and managed to get enough studying in for the GRE's to manage a halfway decent score.

Work has dried up for my husband, so we're living off of the extra loan money I saved for summer classes. We'll make it through the summer, and at least I can return to some work, though not as much as before. But we had enough guts to splurge on the credit card together for fresh crablegs, shrimp, and other tasty goodies to cook for dinner that just makes the rest of our issues seem manageable.

I mean, after all, life is about getting through and surviving all that's thrown at you and then finding a way to enjoy what's left. If I have to have ankle surgery, then I'll have to continue to be out of work as a cocktail waitress and may not be able to cook as often as I'd like.

It's tough on the feet.

But at least tonight we enjoyed a great evening and a great bottle of wine and deliciously full bellies.

I've forgotten what it's like to have time on my hands, and it's wonderful though a little hard to find something to fill it with. I'm used to either being doped up on pills or slammed with homework, so this is a nice treat.

I'm both hoping and dreading that it will be easy street from here on out, but at the very least I know we have it in us to make the best of it, crab legs and buttery goodness aside.

Truth

So here goes.

Truth.

Everyone has a different opinion on what the truth is, what it should be, what it should not be.

What's natural? What's normal? What's acceptable?

There's only you, you and whatever it is that you believe, because believe me, there's not much else out there worth looking for; except people who've seen it the same way.

At least that's my personal opinion.

There are a lot of people out there with a voice, and many voices louder than mine could ever be. I can't help thinking that my voice was put out there to help influence someone to a better decision. Maybe not even a decision that I agree with, but a decision nonetheless. That's the strongest thing that any one person can ever do for themselves and the ones they love.

I started smoking again after a very short hiatus by many definitions. But for me, instead of capitulation, it was a cognitive decision that I felt benefited me in some way. I know not physically, because no one could help themselves by smoking. But romantically, ideally, truthfully, lovingly; smoking is something that not only caresses my lungs but caresses my soul. It brings me in touch with Katherine Heburne, Bette Davis, Debbie Reynolds, Kathrine Turner, Anais Nin, and all the other sexy women from a time now past.

It puts me in touch with the soul of my grandmother, whom I identified with more closely than I ever let on.

She was a classic beauty, a classic wife, a classic woman who handled everything with grace and just the right amount of patience, optimism and care.

In her grace I hope to live. In her way of being I hope to find who it was I am supposed to be. I don't think I ever forgot, I just like remembering. There's something romantic in that idea, and that's something that embodies who I am. Old cartoons, cigarettes, whisky, eclectic art and fancy purses.

That's why I want children, and that's likely why I'll never end up having them. It makes me cry.

I miss them, the children I never had.

They were my loves, my joys, my chance at fame and fortune and comfort.

But they will not be here. They are for another time more appropriate for the work they may accomplish. I wish I could believe that. But telling myself of their truth and their potential helps me remember who they might have been, even if they never were. At least that's a little something that makes me feel better without feeling too guilty.

Self Knowledge

There’s something to be said for knowing who you are, or at least knowing who you want to be.

For a lot of us, there’s nothing.

It’s not so scary as all that, not really. Just perturbing. There’s always room to question. Or at least some of us believe so.

There’s something to be said for listening. Really listening. To anyone. Maybe the drunk at the corner of the bar or the drunk at the end of the couch. Maybe the health nut on TV, or the health nut in your family. Or the friend who called just to say hello but really has something they can’t deal with alone, but are too afraid to take your time.

There’s something to be said for really seeing what’s there to see. To learn the body language or figure out the cultural rules of some foreign exchange. To see something from an absolutely, completely different perspective. That’s enlightenment. That’s what we’re supposed to reach for, but it’s so easy to be afraid.

Don’t be. Take a deep breath and go.

Change.

Live.

Do.

That’s hypocrisy for you. I’d love to believe it were as simple as all that, but you can’t ever forget that there are bills to pay. Or can you? I don’t know. But I want to pretend I know, and pretending takes me farther than knowing ever can.

bllagging, and it's time to chill

So it's blogging, bragging, bs-ing, and everything in between.

I used to write, a long time ago. Now I think I might have come back to it as a form of therapy. It's pretty awesome as a tool for figuring out who you are and remembering who you were. Tonight i just seem to be full of all sorts of sh!t, and who knows when I'll stop.

Who knows if I'll ever come back to this website. It ws a last minute decision once I had this newfound sense of freedom - I've just realized I've got very few, extremely manageable responsibilities for a short few weeks. I have time. And time is precious.

On the one hand, I want to fill every hour with productive work - learning, having fun, excelling, cleaning house, loving, partying and everything else. But on the other hand, I want to lay in bed all day and watch the sun go from one corner of the room to the other and appreciate the fact that I have a heartbeat and a beautiful husband. Both worthy goals.

Can I do both?

I guess I'll find out over the next few weeks. I'll try to let you know what happens.

Smokers Only

Ya know, honestly, cigarettes taste damn good. Maybe it’s the fault of the tobacco companies, but there’s a certain amount of satisfaction to be found in the first inhale of a good cigarette as it warms your lungs and lights your blood on fire. There’s some sort of power in exhaling the smoke from your body. Yeah, sure, it’s leaving nasty shit behind. There’s some cognitive dissonance for you. But all in all, there’s power. Maybe that’s why so many native Indian tribes have a peace pipe or some other form of smoking; either that, or it’s become a powerful cultural binding tool. Because when you take time to think about it, there’s a lot of primitive style tribes that have some sort of bonding ritual, or adult-status-achievement ritual that involves smoking, drinking or eating some form of intoxicating natural plant life.

Then the industrial age kicks in and manufactured drugs kick in once the opium’s banned. Wonder if the invention of the manufactured cigarette coincided with the temperance movement in the US. A quick perusal of articles culled might seem to agree, but this author is too lazy to do much more than that. We’ll leave it for another day.