Archive for the ‘thoughts’ Category

How to Improve American Idol

May 24, 2009

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As Simon Cowell reiterated throughout Season 8, this is a talent competition. Yet the American public has all sorts of reasons for voting for their candidate, often having nothing to do with talent. The judges are professionals who recognize it when they see it, yet their professional opinions are not factored into the voting  results. This is not fair to the contestants.

For the first time in Season 8 we saw the show give the judges a little more clout in the results by giving them a “save” to use one time to help a losing contestant, Matt Giraud,  who they deemed to have promise.  Whey not give them more influence on the results, to balance politics vs a true talent search? 

These professional judges should be part of the voting process. They would have to unanimously agree on their candidate, just like they did with the pass. Then a formula should be created where their vote factors in with the public vote…Say 50%? 

This would at least help to prevent travesties such as we witnessed in the Lambert/Allen fiasco.

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Adam Lambert Didn’t Win????

May 21, 2009

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I have never understood the emotional investment people have about their favorite sports teams. I don’t know which team is in which league and I don’t care who wins.  People behave as if their team is their family. Better not say anything bad about the team, and don’t go near the fans the day after the team loses.  You might lose your head, or at least your hearing, about the unfairness of it all.

Now, tonight, I get it. As an ardent American Idol viewer, I’ve been wowed by Lambert since his first performance. He’s been the team I’ve been cheering for. I mean really cheering. He took the stage by storm with a range of notes I’ve never even heard and he did it consistently, week after week. He had charisma that I think has not been seen since Elvis Presley. He had confidence, presence, amazing good looks, polish, professionalism,  and sex appeal. He does not have talent. He has a gift. He made all the other contestants, including the winner, look like amateurs.

And he didn’t win. I feel as sad as my son would feel if the NY Yankees lost. I felt so sick about it I had to turn off the TV while the winner sang his song.

And so I wonder…why didn’t he win? I did not know until I fell upon it by chance today that he may be gay. That apparently there was a photo circulating the web showing him kissing another guy. When asked he said, “I am what I am.”   I so respect him for that. Yet also circulating the web were speculations that his questionable sexual orientation would bring him down in the end. Bad boy vs right wing boy next door.   If that’s why he lost, I’m not sad. I’m angry. So angry. As Cowell reiterated throughout the season, its supposed to be a talent show. 

Was this a witch hunt?

A True Confession About Friends

May 20, 2009

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Artist: Diego Rivera

 

As I get older, I’m becoming more and more of a loner.  That is to say, I prefer my own company to the company of others. Given the choice of a visit with a friend, or reading or writing or creating, I will always choose the latter.  I’m going to say what is true for me, even though it sounds awful. After about a half hour visit, I get bored. Yes. I get bored. Because my mind drifts away to my interior landscape from which my creativity springs, and I want to get back to it. To whatever medium I’m working in. I don’t want to listen very long to  somebody’s daily travails or about their their kids or daily lives.  I feel trapped,  a captive audience.  Phone calls are the same for me. Maybe even worse. Because they have to be returned if I want to have any friends at all.

So why do I want them, you may be asking yourself.  Well…because I love them! And I care about them. And when the chips are down, they’re there for me and I’m there for them.  I think maybe  its just that in this fifth decade of my life, my identity is morphing into an artist and I have no patience for daily minutiae.

Also, the more I think about it, a man would never even write this post or have these thoughts. Men don’t chat about their daily lives. Most of the ones I know are very much bottom line kinds of people. Phone calls serve a function, as in : where are we going and what time are we meeting? Men do things together. Women seem to talk about things more. …A cultural thing, I guess.

 How could Psychscribe admit to such mean thoughts? Because it is my truth. Does this sound really awful?

Itching to Write A New Topic!

May 19, 2009

 

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Well aren’t you so glad that you didn’t get to Psychscribe’s site only to hear more of the same…after a while I bet you started to feel itchy yourself!

Well I’m cheerful today because I feel good and its a gorgeous day here where I live. Green, green everywhere and glorious sun already at 9 am, after a week of rain.   And our  rhodies are beginning to bloom.

So… other things I’m cheerful about….

1. My friend Sanity Found read my fable, What Witches Know, and really liked it.

2. I have this whole week off to recuperate, which I will do by making my jewelry and learning Photoshop elements.

3. I have discovered the joys of Polymer Clay.

4. My daughter is starting her 6th month of pregnancy.

5. Less than 3 months till my son’s wedding.

6. I joined Twitter just to see what it was all about (not much!) but now I have this whole list to add just to SAY something. Depth is discouraged on Twitter by limiting the amount of lines you can write. It IS supposed to be a good marketing tool though, which I want to use once I get my business with my sister up and running.

7. Life is once again interesting now that I’m able to look beyond the confines of my body.

8. Umm…that’s good enough, yes? I was actually sitting here for a moment trying to think of two more things to make an even 10…why I have no idea. Too many memes. 

Enjoy your day everyone!

Itching, Madness, and True Love (A Lupus Story in Disguise)

May 11, 2009

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4:00 a.m.  – A lupus story because its about my severe allergic reaction to a lupus drug, said reaction being amplified  because the lupus has joined  with the evil allergy forces to destroy the effects of a drug intended to help me.

This has been the most miserable week of my life-..i have not been able to do anything  but lie in bed with ice packs on me to relieve the itching – every itch  inch of my body- I wake up every 1.5 hours bz of the itch – i’m on steroids and antihistamines- my face is puffed up into a balloon – my ankle is just fractured but still a pain the in ass, i have to wear a brace with sneakers- i only stayed in the hospital overnight because the doctors said they really couldn’t do anymore for me and it would take 2-3 weeks to clear up! they warned that the rash would get worse before getting better, but they did NOT warn that the itch would apparently do the same – it feels like tiny little ants crawling around beneath the surface of my skin, occasionally nibbling at my blood vessels -so at 8 am this morning Alph and i will be parked on the dermatologist’s doorstep, the doctor who saw me in the hospital, for a re-evaluation – no appointment, just begging and if that doesn’t work demanding to be seen.

Alph has been wonderful through all this. Poor man. We have a health crisis every year. Truly. But this was the firat time he had to call 911 for me.  I was commiserating with how awful that must have been to hear me fall to the floor and then come running in to find me unconscious , staring blankly up at him as he tried to rouse me. He replied  in his best John Wayne voice, but seriously, “A man does what he has to do.”   For you kids too young to have ever heard of John Wayne, he was a tough guy movie cowboy, but a gentleman on the inside with a heart of gold.

He has never left my side. John Wayne bringing tea and cookies and pasta and comfort food   and infinite patience..all with the swagger of his youth.  Always making me feel nurtured and protected, even from a barrage of disease bullets. God  I love this man.

1:00 pm – Well what’s wrong with me other than the madness factor that I expected to be refused to be seen? The office staff was very nice and so was the doctor, who none-the-less said he couldn’t do anything for me. It will take another week and a half to slowly improve and I’ve gotta gut it out.  Oh, and the ice packs I’ve been doing have made the symptoms worse due to a rebound effect.

The worst part of it all, the absolute worst, was that Alph was in the examining room and I had to put a gown on and I felt so objectified, ugly, helpless, and embarrassed in front of my own husband when the doctor needed me to stand and take it down so he could see what was going on.

Why should I care, you ask?

Would you want your Hero Prince Charming to get a fast forward of your naked self under flourecent lights, which everyone knows age a woman’s body by about 20 years in the best of circumstances? Red spots bursting out of the pink blotches on your already sagging, steroid water weight skin? What if he was traumatized by the sight? What if….you know….?

How cool that after 20 years I still feel this way about him…

Psychscribe Quote #59

May 4, 2009

“When there’s nothing left to be said, are you still saying it?” Old 60’s quote from who knows where…

Relationships: True Intimacy

May 1, 2009

True intimacy is achieved when you feel safe enough to be emotionally naked with your partner.  You know your partner will not try to talk you out of your authentic feelings, will not say you’re “over-reacting”,  will not try to fix it, and will not ignore you. You know you will be supported and validated no matter what you’re feeling and sharing, verbally or otherwise.  You know you will receive empathy.This is love, pure and simple…

Psychscribe Quote #58

April 19, 2009

 

“Everywhere I go I find a poet has been there before me.” Sigmund Freud

The Life Cycle

March 23, 2009

Even as I celebrate my daughter’s pregnancy and my son’s imminent marriage, I got terrible news last night. My  favorite uncle, brother to the father I’ve been grieving on this blog, has pancreatic cancer. The very same cancer that took my father’s life. Lethal and fast moving. And, even though I wasn’t present when my father died, I now know it was a very painful death. A death my uncle witnessed.   I feel sick at heart over what he has in store for him. What he knows he has in store for him. I always imagine, no matter where my illness takes me, that the doctors would give me enough painkillers that there wouldn’t be much pain. Apparently that’s not always the case.

This is the uncle who taught me to ice skate with my  beloved twin cousins, Lenny and Joe, both already dead before their time.. He took us on wild sledding rides, the three of us screeching in terrified glee.  He taught us  to dive into our pool head first, hands properly pointed above our heads. To make a game of raking autumn  leaves and watching him set fire to them…then toasting marshmallows, carefully, his hand on our wrists to be sure we were safe. He taught the twins, already raucous,  to make practical jokes at my expense. He was the one who made noise on the roof for Santa on Christmas Eve, complete with bells for sound effects. Who truly enjoyed the company of us three little rug rats. And most importantly, who took us off the hands of our stressed out parents and provided a safety haven whenever we needed it most. 

I want to run to him and see him, its been years. I will go with my aunt, his sister,when she is over the shock and ready to plan our flight. I confess I am terrified.  It already feels so like what we went through with my father. I want to be strong and supportive but I’m afraid the similarities will curl me into a useless emotional fetal position..I keep telling myself that he’s not my father. He’s my uncle. I keep telling myself that he is 75. My father was 53.  I tell myself that we all have to die of something. As he has said, he’s had a good run.

It doesn’t help.  It doesn’t help at all. My roots are dying one by one, as nature intended. Thank God a new one is sprouting in my daughter’s womb.

Baby V

March 19, 2009

(12 week sonogram found on youtube- NOT OUR BABY!)

I cannot even begin to describe what an experience it was to see the baby on the sonogram. I stood next to my son-in-law, my daughter of course on the examining table, holding her husband’s hand, as we watched in awe. That was no flat, lifeless screen as shown in the photo on my previous post. It was like an in utero video. At twelve weeks  he was moving around, very active, and even sucking his thumb! There we were, three adults, dumbstruck.  “Oh wow!” was pretty much the extent of the conversation from all three of us while the tech did her thing. My daughter’s “oh how cute!!!!!” periodically punctuated the conversation. She, as we all did, really melted when we saw the thumb sucking. That and our repeated question “is it a boy or a girl????”   The tech kept demurring that she couldn’t be certain at twelve weeks, but finally, having found the penis, she announced “Its a boy!”

We all exclaimed in joy! My daughter was no longer carrying an “it” but a male baby. From the moment I heard it, I no longer felt merely the excitement of the pregnancy. Now he had an identity.  I felt love for him . For that tiny little guy so active inside his mom. For  Baby V, already named before his mom even got pregnant.

At twelve weeks, this baby was no future unknown. This baby was now.

And I feel so very honored that they invited me to participate in this intimate, joyous stage of their journey.  I love all three of them with all my heart.

When I am Happiest

March 16, 2009

 

I’m happiest when I’m creating. I am totally present. It feels like God flows right through me. Peace and energy simultaneously! What could be better than that??? Pure joy! I honestly feel that both physical and spiritual healing continue to take place in me, the more I allow my creativity free reign. Poetry, jewelry designs, decoupage, photography- all of it. I’m working on a new jewelry design which i will show you later. I went to take photos of what i’ve done to show you guys but my battery was dead on my new camera 😦

Anyway, just thought I’d share a happy mood for a change.  By the way, the photo is not me but my sister and dearest friend, who shares my joy as described here…she’s an incredible mixed media artist so we are starting a business together. God I love her.

Economy Crashing Home – AGAIN

March 15, 2009

Gloria Steinem once said that the personal is political. And I fully experienced what she meant. Now, in my life, the political is becoming personal. 

At least my husband’s job is intact…for now. Maybe it was a rumor that the business would fold, but the scare certainly got our attention regarding our vulnerability in this economy . Now, two other family members are definitely being hit.  These are not rumors. Both of them had their own businesses which in another economy would have made it. Now, they’ve lost everything.  Oh I know, I know, material things are not the most important things. We all  write about our values and all the wonderful abstractions that fill our souls and are what count. We talk about the value of suffering and what we learn from it. 

But it hurts like hell to watch your loved ones go through something like this. First, their grief over their lost businesses. I know. I’ve been there.  You put your all  into it and still you have to close the doors. And then the fear. Their fear and yours. What will they do next? What is there to do next in this economy? They’re qualified for jobs… just like  the millions of other equally qualified people  who are waiting on line for interviews.

I know, health comes first. Believe me I know. But right after that comes a sense of safety and security in the world as we’ve known it.  And that, for now, is gone.

First it was physical terrorism. Now our economy crumbling.  It sure feels like another type of terrorism, doesn’t it?

Economic Crash Hits Home

February 26, 2009

Sooner or later the reality of it all had to hit. Like millions of Americans, we lost most of our retirement money in the stock market crash. We thought it had been safe in our 401K.  Even so we figured, hoped, like millions of Americans, that it would rebound. We did not panic, even though my husband is 64 years old.   We still hope so.

And our home, like mostly everyone else’s, is not worth what we paid for it four years ago. Ok, well fine, we don’t want to sell it anyway. We love our cozy little place out in the middle of nowhere, PA. We look forward to our grandkids’ visits out to the country, where we can take them fishing, have sleepouts on the screened porch, catch lightening bugs, that kind of thing.

However recently just before the crash, my husband, primary wage earner, left a very well paying, secure job, to take one closer to home, and me. And that has turned out to be a disaster. Long story short, the company restructured and let go the man who hired him.  Then the other day Alph comes home and tells me there are strong rumors, from good sources.  that the place is going to fold.  Yes, I know, a rumor is just that,  a rumor. But based upon what my husband sees of the management of the place, which he was hired to fix, the rumor seems highly credible.

With no money to draw on from our 401K  or any home equity, we are one paycheck away from no house, no security, no golden years. Luckily, he has already networked with a previous boss who is also a personal friend, and  has consulting work lined up with him for sometime next year which should turn into a full time job.

But still…  one paycheck away from public assistance.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.  Not at our age. I grieve for the lost, false sense of economic security. Ignorance was bliss.

I Have “mild lupus IF AT ALL????”

February 17, 2009

I am stymied… I had to get a new rheumatologist (Harvard and Yale educated) for my lupus because I moved two hours from my former doctor of four years. I went to a new one very highly recommended by a dear, very intelligent friend  who is a doctor.

When I went to see him he had all my records, which he read,  but said he wanted to do his own work up  “to see if you even have lupus”. This meant a blood draw of 12 vials and a referral to a neurologist and pulmonologist. I was to call him after the blood work came in. 

I called in yesterday for the results.  The nurse checked w/him on the blood work and the reply was that the only thing of concern was my cholesterol which is off the charts and to speak to my primary about medication.
So that was IT..like the discussion was over..so i said…well, what about the lupus and a treatment plan for it and the prednisone, meds, etc?

So she went  off for quite some time to ask him  and came back and said  “the dr. said there were very minor changes and that you have very mild lupus, if that.” So I said well what about all this pain? And she replied, “Well I don’t know but that’s very good news. You know I think he just doesn’t want to say you don’t have it outright yet at this point. He wants you to decrease your prednisone from 15 mg to 10.”  Then he wants me to come in and discuss things once I see the neurologist and the pulmonologist!!!!

I know I should be happy  but.. then what IS all this weakness and pain and flares when I get an infection????????????  And what caused my stroke if I have a mild case of lupus?  

I read my previous doctor’s records which indicated I was an atypical case and had not responded to lupus medications. We had always discussed this fact. But he had never said what I found in the record, this hypothesis  that it was possibly somatization – that DREAD word meaning psychologically based symptoms-  but that he rejected that because of the history of  stroke.

So now I’m afraid I have the “hysterical woman” label even though I have these terrible symptoms and history…. Or, maybe I have something else even worse…

Your  objective thoughts.. please?

“Interview” with Career Criminal

February 15, 2009

 

I was just watching a news story about a police officer who was killed by a “career criminal”. 

Now there’s something for the perpetrator to be proud of.  A murder to add to his resume.

Come with me to an interview with a career criminal composite. We’re having coffee at a Mac Donald’s in a really scary part of town.

“So what do you do for a living, Bob?”

“i’m a career criminal.”

“Could you tell us a bit about your job?”

“Yeah. I  sell drugs. Steal and kill and stuff like that.”

“What kind of compensation can a good career criminal hope to make?” 

“Well, the drugs are always good for a few hundred, even a grand some nights.  Or you can always get some cash  from someone walkin’ down the street.  It depends on the victim. You have to be good at targeting your mark. If you’re lucky, you can make hundreds in just one night. If you screw up and the mark has no cash, there’s always the payoff of the thrill kill.”

“Thrill kill?”

“Yeah, you know, like, you kill the mark anyway because you’re pissed off and just want to at least get a rush from that. Cops are better though.” 

“How so?”

“Cause they think they’re so above us, and are always sticking their noses into our business. I mean everyone has to make a living, right? I need a roof over my head and food on my table just like anyone else.

“Well…it must be dangerous?”

“Some. ” (He flexes his muscles a bit, clearly proud.) “But not if you’re tough, and you’re good. A lot of so called career criminals are just criminal wannabe’s. They’re amateurs. They don’t stay on the street, or anywhere else, very long.”

“Does your mother know what you do for a living?”

“Well, she knows I’ve done time but she also knows I was wrongfully  convicted.  I mean, otherwise why would they allow us conjugal visits?”

“Conjugal vists?????”

“Yeah, man it ain’t so bad at all. In our state, we have the right to get a trailer one weekend a month for our booty call.”

“Have you ever thought of going straight, getting a…real job?”

“Hey lady, you ever see where I grew up?  Did ya think I was gonna be a banker, or a lawyer? I”m doin’ just what my daddy did..”  

“You could go back to school…”

“And make what? Ten, fifteen bucks an hour when I get out? Who could live on that?” He looks at me like I”m a complete jackass and stomps out, like a bull ready to charge.

I walk fast, trying not to run, and get into my upscale car, locking all the doors. I feel scared, confused, angry, and also strangely sad for him.  For the blankness in his eyes and the danger in his soul. 

I zoom home to my cozy little house in the burbs, and thank God our sons were born into the life we’ve been able to offer them.

Matchmakers Making Big Bucks on Wall Street

February 12, 2009

Today I found this article published by Reuters….

People are writing checks  for $30,000 -$50,000 up front to find a perfect mate. These appear to be primarily men, who in the stress of their jobs during this economic turmoil would rather come home to the comfort and soothing of a good wife than date around as in past glory days.

So while Wall Street is crashing, matchmaking is smashing. One matchmaker said that she’s recently had a 30 year old write her a $30,00. check up front “without batting an eyelid.”  Another matchmaker said she  recently spent a week at a luxury hotel in New York interviewing  20 women for a client who wanted to meet a graduate of the same Ivy League university he attended.  The client paid more than $50,000. for the search.

Two thoughts occur to me.

1. I went into the wrong profession in terms of income.  

2. Can you imagine how many hungry kids that money could feed around the globe? Is it just me, or is this decadent?

Make New Friends But…

February 12, 2009

 

 

 

 

“Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver and the other is gold.”  

I’m finding I don’t agree with that old saying.  Some of my old friends have disappointed me terribly in regard to my health issues. No support at all.  Not even polite questions about how I’m doing.  If I mention I’ve been having a hard time, they respond as if I mention the weather has really been getting to me. Yet my blog friends are here for me all the time, express genuine concern, and check in with me to see if I’m OK when I’ve been quiet for a while. 

So for me, new friends are the gold ones. Thank you, each and every one of you.

We’re Pregnant!

February 9, 2009

Ok, I know its customary for the mom and dad these days to say “we’re pregnant”, but I just have to tell you that my daughter is pregnant with my first grandchild, and it sure feels like WE’RE pregnant..(.actually just like her wedding felt like “our wedding”.)  We are just so close. She wants me in the delivery room and everything. I am just so honored about that. And even more honored that her husband wants me there.

No, he really does.

 She just got back from the doctor’s. We knew it of course from the home pregnancy test and other obvious signs, but it was nice to have him confirm that she’s healthy and they got to hear the heartbeat. She’s two months, due September 25th. 

Woohoowoohoowoohoo!!!!!!  🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

She thinks she already looks pregnant, especially in her stomach. I don’t want to rain on her parade, she’s so excited, but truthfully, shhhh…here is what she still looks like:

1.5 – 2 million Americans have a form of lupus

February 7, 2009

Do you even know what lupus is ? You should. It can kill you or a loved one. 

If I Had My Life to Live Over

February 7, 2009

 

This is a well known column by Erma Bombeck, a very popular writer who was syndicated back in the days before the internet and died in 1996.. (Yes children, there once was a world without it when people couldn’t live without their paper newspapers!) 

Anyway, I thought I’d post it for anyone in younger generations, or other countries, who missed it. Its quite wonderful, I think. Hope you will too. Its called “If I Had My Life to Live Over”.  She writes:

I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the ‘good’ living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television – and more while watching life.

I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for the day.

I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn’t show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I’d have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.”

There would have been more “I love yous”..  more “I’m sorrys”…  but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute…look at it and really see it…live it…and never give it back.

by Erma Bombeck 

About Erma from Wikipedia: “Erma Louise Bombeck (February 211927 – April 221996), born Erma Fiste, was an Americanhumorist who achieved great popularity for hernewspaper column that described suburban home life humorously from the mid-1960s until the late ’90s. Bombeck also published 15 books, most of which became best-sellers.

From 1965 to 1996, Erma Bombeck wrote over 4,000 newspaper columns chronicling the ordinary life of a midwestern suburban housewife with broad, and sometimes eloquent, humor. By the 1970s, her witty columns were read, twice weekly, by thirty million readers of 900 newspapers of theU.S. and Canada.”

To My Everlasting Shame

February 6, 2009

I did not stay at my father’s bedside, to be with  him until he passed. There he was, right upstairs in the bedroom, while I hid like a coward downstairs and out of sight. We knew it would be that night. The doctors had called the family in and said so. 

All his brothers and sisters, the aunts and uncles I grew up with,  had been pretty much staying at my parents’ house for those last weeks.  The pasta pots were always boiling. They brought Italian bread and provolone cheese and sweet salami with big green olives. Most importantly,  they brought the black humor which is our family trademark , especially during our darkest hours.  It sustained us and carried us.

And yet, there was an age regression that took place for me. At age 32, they were still the grown ups and I was like a child again. That’s just how the dynamics morphed. When it was soon to be time, my favorite aunt had a talk with me and asked me if I really wanted to watch my father die. She explained to me, 32 going on 8, that dying was not like in the movies. It was quite a frightening thing to see.  She encouraged me to have my quiet time alone with him, now in a coma, and say my good-bye. I did so. Then I walked out of the room and all his siblings and my mother went in and the door was firmly closed.

And so he died with his wife, brothers and sisters all around and me nowhere in sight. They later said it was an awful thing. Blood and God knows what everywhere. Even his brothers were shaken by it. It was not something I should have had to see, they told me. As if they had protected me from something.

But not long after, I realized it was my own father’s awful thing. I should have been there. I allowed myself to be shielded by my beloved and well meaning aunt with childlike trust.  I should have been there. I was not a child. I was not, in truth, protected or shielded. I was written out of the last line of the last page of his life.  No, we wrote me out. 

And I am so ashamed, sorry, and regretful… What if my father knew or sensed I wasn’t there, right through the invisible walls of his coma? My shame is this: that I, his oldest and most responsible child, should have  accompanied him on the final stage of his journey. I should have been there. 

No tidy ending to this post. I should have been there.  

(This post was inspired by a poem by Cordie entitled:  If I had it to do all again)

Protected: Final Words

January 24, 2009

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Psychscribe Quote #52

January 18, 2009

 

 

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“Nothing worth knowing can be taught”  Oscar Wilde


Friends: Phone vs Email Time

January 12, 2009

First, let me start off by saying I am not a phone person. I just don’t like chatting on the phone. I get very impatient. That being said, I love emails and keep in touch with just about everyone that way. I think one of the reasons social email is so popular is that we can converse on our own time and schedule, sequentially rather than simultaneously.  Most of us lead such hectic lives…

So I have to prioritize. My family, I talk  to on the phone. We need to hear each other’s voices. And I think we would all agree that its nice to hear our friend’s voices once in a while! But I have had conflicts with friends who have different communication needs and want more phone time. Yet when I think of my blogger friends, I have never heard their voices yet know and feel their distinct personalities, their dreams and heartaches, and I worry about them when things are going badly for them.

I don’t know… the friends thing can be so difficult sometimes.

Psychscribe Quote #50

January 5, 2009

“It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees.” 

                      quote by Emiliano Zapata Salazar (8 August1879 – 10 April1919),  a leading figure in the Mexican Revolution against the dictatorship of Porfirio Díaz that broke out in 1910. Source: Wikipedia.