Mini-Fun

         I participated in what I've always, to some degree, thought of as shameless parenting on Saturday night. I took the girls to one of those video game, bad pizza, drop quarters like they are going out of style, win a prize for a rate of return of about . 05 cents on the dollar, kind of monetary sucking place. I had fun.

       The best part about one of those places is finding the photobooth for a much better return on money. $2 bucks and you too may have proof you entered the money depleting zone. $2 bucks and you buy a whole lotta of smiles and truly bad personal photos!
      
       As I steadily handed out quarters and feed the change machine green backs, I glanced around at the euphoria of little kids plunging their parents hard earned money into game machines in their quest for tickets. I decided there must be some sort of secret conspiracy going on between casino owners and kiddy palace owners. These kids are all in mini-training for the big stuff when they turn 21.

       The lights, the games, the sounds, the screams of jackpot delight. It's all a legal Las Vegas, kiddo style. All right, I know sometimes I look to far into things, but hey, I have to call it like I see it.

       It was a last minute desperation decision to do something moderately different that didn't require being at the homestead where laundry, housecleaning, and dishes would have prevailed.

       A journal entry can be found in even the most money depleting moments...............

 

 

 

 

Ok, I give, I tried to resize that pic 5 times, but it has decided it will be without a doubt huge...........Winner, Picture with a large margin, loser, Rebecca, by a pixel

Journal Equation

            

Playing with numbers this morning I added up the amount of Entry Alert emails I have blaring at me in bold type on from my email page. Then add on the Comment Alert emails which always feel like mini-Christmas presents, plus a few precious personal emails to me, minus 2 spam emails and what I have is a LOT of catching up to do!

       So I wonder, as I glance at the clock on the wall, what to do, what to do. Time is an element I often race either just right ahead of, or a trailing distance. Often it feels like I have my own Kurt Busch cutting me off at the finish line <Thats for you Echoman1127: yes I know, Kurt's a bastard, ruined Dale Jr.'s 500 and I can still hear you crying up here in Idaho :o) > Even as I write, the clocks ticking, appointment in one hour.

       The reason I decided to write an entry this morning, instead of catching up on all those emails alerts is I'm asking for a pardon this week. I have 187 legit emails to catch up on. Do the numbers, I've only neglected my emails and journal for 3 or 4 days!

       I saw that potentially I've meandered over the last few months through too many journals, clicked far too many 'alert me as entries are posted' buttons and this is the reason for the email overload. Yet when I scanned through my 'manage alerts' section, I could only find 3 alerts I wanted to turn off. So much for micromanaging my journal time!
      
       Normally I really like to comment back to journalers who leave comments about my entries. I love the insight and thoughts people drop off here in my little corner and I want to respond, add further insight, reflect or just say Thanks! That whole, 'select all' respond thing is most brilliant in emails! The comments I received on my last 3 entries were just wonderful and I haven't been able to respond personally to each one this week, so here's my 'get out of jail free card' ..........

Thank you Everyone! Your comments were all wonderful, insightful, and enjoyed by me, and the others reading them!

       So it's fess up time. How in the world does everyone keep up with not only posting entries, but reading others journals daily, keeping abreast with the latest news, holding down a family, work, and staying on top of all the emails? If there is some sort of secret, I would appreciate some clues!
      
       I'm getting this vision of other fellow journalists sitting in a chaise lounge by the ocean, sipping martini's or popping open a can of beer, reclined back with their laptop <which of course is hooked up via satellite, no wires needed on the beach> leisurely adding entries, casually link jumping with an empty email box and merrily skipping over to other journals as the alert emails come along.

       Ok, Ok, I know, your all laughing at my distorted images and your thinking "this gal is definitely delusional" but come one, how do you all keep up??
      
       And with that, I part ways and go off to work with this last 'get out of jail free' caveat. It may take time, it may be slowly over this next week, but I will catch up. If I haven't frequented your journal lately, I WILL.

       Everyone have a wonderful weekend and if you feel like it, just stop writing for a day or two. Give those fingers a little rest, let your mind frolic over new topics, take a journal holiday and let those of us who are madly behind have a chance to catch up :o)

Drama

Main Entry: dra·ma
Pronunciation: 'drä-m&, 'dra-
Function: noun
1 : a composition in verse or prose intended to portray life or character or to tell a story usually involving conflicts and emotions through action and dialogue and typically designed for theatrical performance 
2 : dramatic art, literature, or affairs
3 a : a state, situation, or series of events involving interesting or intense conflict of forces b: dramatic state, effect, or quality <the drama of the courtroom proceedings>

         The dynamics of a drama. I.E. Drama queen, dramatic take on life, daytime drama soaps, nighttime drama soaps, real drama, imagined drama, unexpected drama, unwanted drama, you name it, we all experience it on some cosmic level.

         Heightened emotions, deflated pride, a sparkling spectrum of range can be found in drama. Now, I myself have never taken a liking to drama of sorts. I always thought I was one to shy away from such spectacle of public display. If I was struggling, I simply kept my mouth shut, a smile plastered on my stoic face and trudged through like Jeff Gordon did yesterday in the final laps of the 500.
        
         So now I find myself looking back over recent time wondering if I have indeed experienced the level of drama without simply acknowledging it. If you don't tell others about your struggles, don't verbalize your issues, does it bring it away from the level of 'drama' and simply become just life?

         Now drama, is the enigma I've been muddling around here in my mind. Is drama a force created by oneself? Or is it the feeling that is a result of bad choices, mistakes, you made your bed now sleep in it kind of analogy? Drama, is it just the side opinion others may label your problems as? 
        
         Which raises another question I have. How often do you hear the term drama king? Are men oblivious to this label? Or do they simply recognize their life problems in a different light then us woman folk? Are men exempt from the feelings and emotions that align themselves with the term drama? Is there some sort of divine secret the men out there have between having issues, yet not portraying things in a dramatic twist?

         When I am meandering through the wonderful journals out there, I read about the trials and tribulations of so many woman. A lot of us share common struggles, similar problems, issues that don't seem to go away. The few and far between male journals I come across very seldomly dive into issues like problems, fears, dreams, struggles, and so on. Does this mean all you men just compartmentalize the same things we woman struggle with, or are you lives simply simple? This really perplexes me, are you all just immune? If so, where's the vaccination!
Or is just the simple difference between men and woman, Mars and Venus?

         We all have the friend who calls incessantly with their drama right? I know I do. I smile and listen, lend advice when asked and usually hang up the phone depleted of energy just listening to all that goes on in my friends life. I used to think 'wow, I'd be wiped out if I was trying to juggle all that emotion all the time.'  Yet, these days I feel I'm trying to paddle my own boat without proper oars! Welcome to the world of Drama, step right up folks, it's a wild ride :o) But I ask again, if you keep silent of your troubles, does this remove the self implied label of drama? Then is it just wallowing in a self pity party?

         I am a gatherer of information. I ask questions because I must. It's as simple as that. I want to know the answers to the unknown in my mind. I see lots of question marks in this entry of mine. Always the journey, not the destination right Bruce?

      I know the simple act of opening your voice, or even in this case, writing in public forum, you open yourself up to all sorts of opinion, judgment, and possible labels. For the first time in my life, I can actually say I'm open to that raw prospect. I used to hide within myself. Silent intrigue was my guidinginfluence.
    
             Of course here, the shield of anonymous insight is a perfect scenario for a closet thinker. So I've found a balance and the benefit is, I also open myself up to new and provoking idea's, opinions, thoughts and answers.

Divide and Conquer

Divide and Conquer

       Number One: Ex-husband
             Facts Exhibit 1) Divine solution that seemed innocent enough blows up Rebecca's credit. Basics, upon division of marriage many years ago, terms agreed upon include, no child support in leu of X keeping home, paying mortgage, and ultimately upon sale of home, Rebecca to receive majority of equity. 
       Rebecca goes to buy new truck this month and discovers her credit has gone from mid 700s to an incredible *!$!, unable to reproduce the numbers here in writing out of sheer horror. It is then discovered el Xhole has negated paying home mortgage for the majority of the year 2004. Rebecca never quick claimed herself off mortgage because she didn't want to lose control of home she actually purchased.

             Feelings on Exhibit 1. Devastated is a good start. I think the reason I have been so sick over this betrayal this last month is sheer devastated deception. To think, all these years, paying my bills on time out of sheer determination to keep good credit. All the things I had gone without in order to keep my head above water. All the times I paid bills instead of buying clothes, going to a movie, forgoing food and little things to make sure the bill sharks weren't after me. And for what, just to have a has been undermine everything I worked for in one fell swoop. I was certainly never notified of this default of payment. If the damned X had mentioned his irresponsibility I would have paid the mortgage. I have the money to do so, and would have to save my own financial means.
             Solution to Exhibit 1) Been working with lenders, mortgage company, made the X type up a "it's not her fault letter" which has little to no power in the world of credit. Will continue to pay bills on time, and climb back from this oblivion, in 12-24 months according to the powers that be.

             Fact Exhibit 2) X hubby coming to home to pick up said children with hickeys riddling his neck (more then one occasion)

             Feelings on Exhibit 2) Gawd, give me a break. This isn't rocket science and this isn't high school. I have absolutely no issues with him having a girlfriend, I couldn't care less. It's just lets move alittle higher on the thought level, above the belt and think about what this says to your two daughters!

             Solution to Exhibit 2) Explained to X that although I understand his new girlfriend is just out of high school, and barely 8 years older then his eldest daughter, I would like him to explain to his youngster <I'm not talking about his daughters> that he has girls, young girls, and if she wants to hoover him, she can do it anywhere they don't have to look at.

             Fact Exhibit 3) X has become more and more undependable about picking up kids on said appointed times, more and more undependable about answering phone, less and less time with children. And drinking seems to be a more common factor in his life.

             Feelings and Solution. Well, I believe exhibit 1,2,3 are all directly related and the result of his thinking below the belt. Solution unable to be found at the moment. It's just impossible to manage everything else that gets tossed at me when I have to baby-sit him and his actions too. Cutting me off at the legs with the credit thing, just so he has the money to take youngster on numerous vacations, <without kids of course> and buy his new aura of fashion to fit in with his new crowd, just installs a feeling of rage. If his actions didn't directly involve me I would care less.

       Number Two: Business Partner
             Fact Exhibit 1) Partner has excused himself basically from all responsibility in means of financial and simple work from all current projects. His inability to follow through and stand by his word has resulted in twice the work load for Rebecca. His inability to do the job done right the first time has become quite a caveat for him, because he knows Rebecca will come along behind, put the fires out and finish everything.

             Feelings on Exhibit 1) I am so tired of doing not only my work, but others in the name of doing things 100% right. Maybe it's my desire for perfection, my desire to have happy clients, my desire to be the best, but this has become downright unbalanced slavery.

             Solution to Exhibit 1) Have had two meetings with the powers that be to dissolve said partnership in the last week. Have provided factual representation of work done, money at stake (To the tune of $180,000) and said partner is obviously fighting for his cut. Integrity and honor are the closest to my heart, and I have struggled with my fight to keep things fair. Gross compensation was a word that one person used to defend my position and to help win my battle. I couldn't agree more. Just another cause for my current song and dance of frustration in my life.

       Number Three: Residing in my home

     For reasons I cannot explain, I've given my word I would not discuss this in my journal. Reticent strife.

       Number Four: On the horizon

       To know something is so close, yet so far away. A comfort and a fear of loss. Action and value with life changing consequences and rewards.

And these are just a few of my favorite things, that have made me sing the tune of a country western song. 
      
And Paul  Aurora Walking Vacation   , bring on the jokes, I could use some sort of let the force be with you smile, anything would be better then thinking I'm reduced to a country western song...........

New Hope

     
       Almost a week since I've wrote. There's been many reasons for this.
      
       One, inundated with work has been an overwhelming factor. I know this is a direct result of over focusing on one irrelevant item to avoid another emotional turmoil.
      
       This in turn causes, in my line of business, too much work for one Rebecca to manage without tossing in a 70 hour week. I never signed up for a 70 hour week and frankly, have no desire for such work hours. At least I know it's temporary and I can scale back, soon hopefully.
     
        Second, the more I work, the more I can avoid friends, family, close ties, and their relentless opinions and questions. If I hear "told you so" one more time I think I'll just revert to some sort of nomad hermit, toss everything to the wind and move to a hovel high in the mountains. Live off the land and be free of emotional ties, cell phones, responsibility, expectations and implied pressure. 
     
        Although that last paragraph seems irrational, it's how I feel right now. I am tired. There is no doubt about this. This month has been a test of emotional strength and stamina that presently, I cannot predict an outcome.
      
       You've all heard the analogy about the frog in boiling water right? I am the frog that stepped into nice tepid water and even as the temperatures rose I waited patiently for the water to subside. I am the frog that even as the temperatures boiled seemed unable to jump out. I am the frog thats being boiled alive, and is unable to reach up and turn the stove knob off. I am a damn analogy.

       The bête noire in my life has such staying power, the chance of breaking free has been as slim as Lara Flynn Boyle at times. Hind sight is always 20-20 and with each reach for the stove knob, lessons are learned, new tactics are devised and a surge of will power emerges.
      
       I do fear all the "told ya so's" it's almost like saying "Rebecca, hownaive could you be to think this was going to work?" Hmmmm actually, I believe someone has already said almost such a direct thing.

       Failure is not a word I've ever really took kindly too. Maybe I've always been one of those people who the motto, 'failure is not an option' was written for. Yet, when it comes to relationships, my time honored stamp reads 'Rebecca, here lies love failed' Yep, Vicky, I'm turning cynical. Or I'm just enervated, or frustrated, or <insert any adjective or verb you'd like>

       A commenter wrote in my previous entry that I seemed to be a romantic at heart. Yes, I would agree with that. Romantic could quite possibly suggest dreamy, dreamer, unrealistic hopes, expectations of something intangible. So I question myself as to what do you hold onto, and what do you give up. Is there a fine line between expectations and hopes, versus, reality and acceptance. Mind over heart, heart over mind. Which is it? Or are these two supposed to work hand in hand? A parallelism between truth and dreams.

       I spent a weekend once on the Oregon Coast with someone and it was full of laughter and smiles. I've had that picture next to my bed for many years now. Sometimes I just stare at my smile, my innocence and my happiness and question why I ever got off that log. But I know the answer to that question. It was the factor of reality, all part of the equation, the heart was left out of that decision.

I know for now, I must do what anyone would do, keep moving along. Maybe this week I'm alittle numb, because I've been watching the ticking countdown, and am certain it will be passed. Lesson learned. So I pick myself up, and work with what I've been handed and not let all the "told ya so's" bring me any lower then I already feel.

New Hope Is All I Have To Hold Onto Now And That Picture.

Noticed

To the Red Roses  and the Blue Violets. To the Kindness of Friends and the Passion of Lovers. To the Beautiful Children and the Arms of Family. For all the Companions and Thoughts alike. Wishing a day of Love to all within. For a Voice to Surrender to the Moments in Time. Take Pause and Observe all the Potential in a Day. In the beat of another, Love can be Heard. It's in a Smile, It's in a Gaze. Found in Words and Silent Unspoken. A day no different that Past and Future. A Simple Observation this day can bring.

A Chance to Make Sure not a Soul goes unnoticed.

Happy Valentines Day to All Those Who Have Placed a Touch of Inspiration On My Shoulder

Secret Code

       In case inquiring minds would like to know, a solution was formulated from my Aye Captain entry. Yes, the Mother <playing the part of yours truly> and the 12 11/12 yr. old <Shelby playing the part of the, I'm going to be 13 in 19 days now> found a mutual understanding, a fashion compromise, and even ground in the dress department.

       The second dress shopping trip had better results because the first trip was discussed and even expectations were maintained. Darlin Shelby brought reinforcements in the name of a bona fide teenage friend <she turned 13 back in November so this adds infinite wisdom> and with the added strength of the power of two, they thought they could take me on. This time all I had to do was smile and nod my head of approval or disapproval.

       Oh sure, there were a few roll of the eye's moments between the two friends, I'm astute in picking that secret wave length of communication. I am a pro at it, still am, plus, I'm the Mom, I have eye's in the back of my head!
      
       Picking up on the female phenomenon of silent communication, ESP wavelengths, emotional charged electric verbiage is something, I believe, all woman are born with. It's in our memories past down via genetic code from woman to woman over time. It's a secret society with several different levels, unspoken, yet loud and clear.

       I find myself, depending on the level another woman has achieved in fine tuning her skills, being able to uphold an unspoken side conversation even amongst a large group of people. Conveying my thoughts and true opinion with a look of the eye, an upturn or downturn of the mouth. Body language, intake of breath, movement, a deeper sigh of breath, a touch to the temple of my forehead and so on. All indicating a silent thought or word, or even a full sentence to the tuned in friend across the table.

       This of course, in highly evolved friendship with a crafted friend can transpire over the telephone. Without the secret code of visual effects, this craft relies heavily then on cryptic words, pauses, sighs of breath, raises in voice tone, lowering at the right moment.
      
       For example. You can want to say, I've had an awful day, the kids are at their worst and I want to dig a 6 foot hole for my other half, yet, they are all hovering around and you can't spell that out without hiding in the closet. So you simply say, " It's dinner time, I'm behind, can I call you later?" With the right voice tone, animation, your highly crafted friend will say, "OH I get it, hang in there, ask them to help and take a great bubble bath tonight when everyone goes to bed." Ha the power of the secret language.

       I watched these young ladies trying their own secret language on for size that evening and found myself smiling inside with the knowledge that they are learning. Why would I tell them that I understood exactly what they were saying to each other? I have a secret, I've been gently teaching them for years. You know what I'm talking about, the Mother that has the ability to stop their children in their tracks with a single look. A divine code that takes years to master, friends to try it out on, sometimes you get caught,  but most often you don't.

       Now I wonder, in this medium, writing in a public journal. How well does the code translate across these pages? Is the code the same from Idaho where I live, to New England, Washington, Florida and so on? Lets test it out..............

  I am tired this week. Only 22 days left.

Chick Flicks and Implications

 Yesterday I put myself through the bliss and torture of watching what I would classify a 'love story' or more typically referred to as the infamous 'Chick Flick.' From time to time I'll do this, usually in a dreamy state of longing, of which afterward I can mourn my lack of romantic entanglement.
      
       Maybe thats the reason love stories are written, just so we can compare notes and realize our own script is sorely lacking in Oscar winning moments. Maybe they are written simply with the knowledge that woman seek this sort of level of love and will toss 8 bucks at a movie theater to live vicariously through another script.
      
       Now, some may think I'm getting all dreamy because that other infamous day is right around the corner. You know what I'm talking about, Valentine's Day, lover proclamation day, the flaunting of the flowers and diamonds day. A day to make declarations of companionship or abandonment. The day to avoid the office if you know nothing will be delivered to your secretary. A day to flounce around with a commendable validation of love from their significant other.............

       I see I'm getting off topic, sorta, but I'll probably visit the concept of Valentine's Day soon enough in my journal. Back to Love Stories........

       I watched "The Notebook" yesterday. The epidemic of a love story. Yes, I used the word epidemic. This sort of movie could cause an epidemic of expectation from love starved woman. I find it very interesting Nicholas Sparks, a male gender, wrote this story.  Could a mere female like me consider the possibilities that a man could love me in such a way? Ladies, if you go rent this movie, try hog tying your man to the couch, tape on a gag, and make him sit through it. If he gets any hints along the way, hooray for woman.
      
       I hope I'm not starting to sound cynical. Because I have felt what soulmate all embracing love feels like. A writer couldn't have wrote those feelings, even in a perfect imagination, any better. I find myself reading all the time, watching the occasional movie, remembering my own memories and thinking about possibilities. I have opportunities to recapture those feelings, I'm not at the end of my story, and thats a beautiful thing. It's that concept of time again, embracing me within it's walls, instead of me chasing it all the time.

       But here's a question I have for the people who may come across my journal. Just how many of you have found true all encompassing love? Is life really like baking cookies without the butter? If your missing the ingredient of love in your life, do you find your cookies just never come out right?

       Are the type of love stories in our minds, ok mine at least, only there because my imagination is a bit shifty and can keep conceiving Oscar winning material? Maybe I should clarify Oscar winning material briefly here. Short list 1) Somone I can trust 2) Someone who makes me smile and laugh 3)  Someone who makes a marginal attempt to read my words and understand me 4) Someone who will make me coffee and bring it too me when I'm sick.....those kind of simple things I'd consider Oscar winning stuff at this juncture in my life.
       
       Do we 'people' who write a lot, exploratory imaginations, set too high of expectations here in our mind that can never be accomplished? I just don't know. But I do know this. I know my love is out there, an all encompassing, passionate, full of laughter and trust, and I am coming for it.

Damn those chick flicks and all they imply! :o)

Division

   I'm on my way. On my way, I like the sounds of that. This is the place where I can be secure. Without doubt and question. Now, take my hand and embrace time. As I walk along I pause to gaze at the crack in the sidewalks, I move along paths dividing thought and action.
   
              See my vision, through my eye's, be my shadow. I want time to embrace that which is coveted and desired. Maybe dreams are made to be achieved only after sacrifice and experience. Conquering which fear has taken form. It's my day, simple, nothing extraordinary. Incapacity to feel jaded when the choice is handed in 30 days.
      
       Tough exteriors. Isn't that what the female is made of? I know I'm tough on the outside. Nothing extraordinary. But as I face the sun, and I realize that everyday I'm looking for the warmth, a touch of embrace around my hand. Someone to point out the path hidden behind the obvious. See the things I see, let me look through another vision and insight.
      
       I stand here, just trying to balance. I've been the pillar of support. I know this. It was my burden from the beginning. See. The sway. Broken wing syndrome. Glancing over my shoulder, I see my shadow, patient and still. Take my thoughts and walk with me.

       I know it's hard to get by in things day to day on just a smile. But my smile is reassuring to those around, a complacent move on my part. I can feel that. Please don't use that against me. What kind of person would use that against another, thats right, you. I didn't know someone could discover my weaknesses and use them so. Yes, I hear you. I couldn't move any lower. But now I see you. You feel that don't ya. If I can fall, so can you.
      
       I've paid the ransom, I take my emancipation and walk down the path unbalanced. Touch the handrail of hope and seek the ordinary. Ya I hear you calling. 30 days and I will not balance  your hand. Division of action.

Incapacity to feel jaded,
Something to carry with you
It's a simple moment
Bothered by the delicate
Smiled at the malevolent
All part of the history
No longer an Indication of the future
Lonely is my word
Render a solution by tomorrow's
rejections
Prosperous is the mind
that keeps on conceiving
Declare the attestation
Rewrite the impression

                                                           Perhaps an unfinished reflection

Intentional

 

 

 

Intentionally

Left 

Blank

 

 

                                                                                                                   

                                                                                                                             Nel Whatmore "Sisters swaying"