Files

                   

And here I am, clicking away on my new laptop. I think typing on this thing is going to be an acquired taste. But how wonderful. I bought every imaginable gadget that goes with it, so I can pretty much type anywhere I want now. I have visions of sitting on my big porch up at my cabin in the Mountains, drinking coffee in the misty morning, clinking away as inspiration strikes. I won't be missing any more days of technology writing.

       So inquiring minds may want to know, how am I these days? I wish I could say the sign of emerging spring life is parallel to how I'm feeling, but this isn't so. Yet. I've found myself in a barrel of mist and haven't been able to clear the vision as of yet. So, time, yes that nemesis of mine, is going to just have to stand still a bit longer.

       Isolation from the other side of thought is a lustrous temptation for which I could not resist. I've tucked my loneliness inside a wisp of thought, and pushed my confusion down the hall into it's own door of silence. I personally think it's a precious maneuver by industry standards. My own form of a watch tower.

       So instead of going down a tunnel of melancholy again on this journal entry, <to late I know> I thought I should try something alittle different. Memories, those darling little pocket files stashed away sweetly in our minds, are the things we relish, regret and dignify with retelling.
      
       Do you know a person in your life, who without a doubt can recall every little minute detail about the past with astonishing clarity? I do.....Sometimes I like to think I can do the same, then again sometimes I feel like I'm on the first step to the Alzheimer's ward. I honestly have a hard time remembering negative things.

        For example, the last few years of my teenagehell I can barely remember anything in regards too. Now, this city I live in, is pretty small in comparison to most worlds. When I'm walking down the street and I hear someone call out "Becky" really loud, I instinctively know I should run the other way, because that's pre-age 20, no one calls me Becky, after knowing me past the age of 20. I will very rarely remember the person who is talking to me.

       In my 20's I do happen to remember some of the negative, but typically those are just all the bad choices I made. The negative things other people may have done to me are easily forgotten. This is a hard thing for me to admit, but there are whole sections of my daughters lives I seem to have hard time bringing clear and distinct memories of. I hate that the most. < I can hear the chime's of the Alzheimer's ward calling now>

       So is it a choice to forget some things, and remember with utmost clarity other things? This can't just be a me thing. But then again, in speaking with a clever man I know, he astounds me with the things he can remember. Little details, a movement, a heavy breathe, a feeling or look, a sentence or statement. He can even recall exact dates! How can this be? If memories are the path to the past, then someone is out there with a shovel digging up holes on my walkway.

       At least I'm finally forced to date my writing via this online journal. I get irritated with myself when I go back now, years back and read stuff that I was writing about and unless there is a direct hint for me, I have no idea what year, month, time it was written. Denial of history, ignoring the timeline is what I had done, by not adding a simple date.

       Hey Joe, this is a pretty good example of rambling a bunch about a bit of nothing tonight. Feels kinda calming to be non descript.

       "Poetry is the revelation of a feeling that the poet believes to be interior and personal {but} which the reader recognizes as his own.
Salvatore Quasimodo
And that Paul, Aurora Walking Vacation, is something I can grasp and accept. I read it and thought of our debate.

Hello

Countdown, 4,3,2,1.........

       I felt the need to make a special trip to write in my journal. It's been sitting alittle heavy on the mind, my last entry. In my moments of uncontrolled balance, I'm afraid I went beyond my original choice of exposure and simply wept onto my blank pages.

       I have a private journal that is usually reserved just for such unabated, unleashing and outpouring. But whether subconsciously or intentional, when it came to copy and pasting (I religiously use your method Paul and haven't lost an entry since, thank you again) onto either journal, I went public. Exposure in light.

       The comments/encouragment I received went beyond the realm of profound and I found great solace in them. During a time when mum is the word, a mute I've become to the reality of my 3-D dimension, the written word became the comfort I attached too. It was the Kleenex to wipe my tears, the thoughts to shake me up, the motivation to keep going. Virtually nameless, faceless people with hearts of gold, thoughts of wisdom and beautiful words to adhere too.

Thank you.
Is the simplest way of saying exactly what I mean to express.     

       I do have another to thank. One person in a special light. But that will have to wait for another day. A ray of sun, did indeed shine on my face, even for just a few days. It felt every bit of warm, as I had thought it would. Thank You.

       I believe I went public with that entry, because I, the human cyborg, did indeed actually need assurance and support. So for shameless, selfish reasons, I opened a door and gave a sincere peek around during a much troubled time. You know what, it felt good to do that, alittle odd, very much uncomfortable, but good.

       The train has derailed. This is how I simply explained my silence to a friend who kept pushing the envelope with me today. During the worst of times, I find I do the worst of extremes, which is silence.
      
        Of course I see the rational sense in speaking whats troubling you, confessing all your worries and confusions. Rational behavior for most, I have to believe this based on the quota of calls I get monthly from troubled friends and family.

       For me it's always been different. The harder things become, the more I feel this tightening of the throat, my vocal cords perform a sort of paralyzation and silent I become. It can be an instant constriction, or a gradual one. Debilitating it becomes.

       I have to believe this is where my writing mind takes over. During these moments of time, I can't make a noise to scare off a mouse, but I can write as loud as I want. The words just creep out, steady as she goes, chugging along like the train I portray to the world.  

       The 3-D train may have derailed, but the writing train is still here, moving along pretty fast if I might add. My hand is cramped from the archaic writing I performed last week during my sabbatical. It was good. Therapy at it's finest the good doctor Rebecca decided.

       I should be coming soon to a Journal near you, via my new Sony Viao laptop, it's supposed to be to me on Weds. <Insert alittle woohoo, first happy dance in awhile>

I just felt the need to say hello, how are you, and of course............Thank You

Patient

       
       It's astounding how sometimes you can feel like such a tiny person in a sand filled hourglass. Sorrow is so overwhelming right now I can't think, I can't speak. I can barely write. For the first time, my tears have won. They have kept me company since I woke up, just a sweet steady flow of pain.

       Crying. This is something pretty unfamiliar to me. As I had thought I had hidden the ability so long ago. Vision and clarity. Things have gotten so big, and I feel so small. Please give respite. This may be the most sorrowful entry I've ever done. It all seems so real, yet, standing here I feel so removed. I know I need to live while I can, in this space of me I feel so isolated.

       For something real and elements of peace, all I hear is violence within. My surface has become so fragile. Where this weakness prevails from, where it has been hidden for so long is beyond my own words to explain. Like the car wreck you were involved in, the pain really doesn't hit until a few days later.

       I know I am more then he saw, I know I am more then he would see. The painters brush has marked a streak of red across my forehead. And I will never regain what is lost, time and innocence. I need the sunlight on my face again. I've seen what shouldn't be. I know now what I will never accept again. Yesterday is mine to carry on my own, and tomorrow will bring the sunrise again.

       I just didn't know. I think I had thought all the wrong expectations of how this would go. My own heart is being such a traitor right now. If I knew how to quarantine it, I would throw away the key. Change is horrendous. I want this to turn black, with no definition. Inside this room, where my walls are black and the roof is red I seek consolation.

       And into every life some rain must fall. Who's brilliant idea was that. I am more. I feel like a kaleidoscope today. If you peeked inside you could see every dimension, no hiding anything. What a sad mess I've become. Perspective right. How could I have thought this wouldn't effect me in such a way. Delusional expectations. Even something all wrong can feel safe.

       I have many things to focus on right now. I can keep watching for the sunrise, waiting for the shadow over my heart and life to dissipate with the gift of warmth from sunlight, or I can keep looking at the dark of night, trying to understand, find the answers, keep hiding in the twilight. Come within my heartache, touch what confusion and fear feels like.

       Memories are the road map to our past, so that must mean dreams are the hope that create new paths. It's tough to be strong all the time, even a tough exterior wears thin sometimes. It's even tougher when you have no one you can talk to about the pain from inside. The people in my life have come to the expectation I am the rock, the foundation that doesn't need like others, a tough strong person, who can smile in even the hardest of times. Where does a person go for support when you've set up such impossible expectations.

       The jokes on me, I'm just as human as the next person. I'm just extremely talented in hiding it. Way to go girl, you've succeeded in holy status, translation, alone. Did I ask to much of myself. Did I set my own expectations so high a devastating fall was a probable outcome? Of course, with every fall there is only two choices. Stand up and proceed with the battle, or lie there and become nothing. I do choose to stand up, I'm just tired right now and need alittle lie down rest.

       Patiently waiting for mind and heart to stand hand in hand again. It won't be long until I'm singing my new song. I'll set my feet upon my new path, head up, walking hand in hand with time, heart, mind and my sunrise. For my center is somewhere out there, quietly waiting for parallelisms to be achieved.

       Winds of change can feel like a vicious tornado. But I have a solid mountain to hold onto. I just need the right person to see what I've been through, hold it dear, understand it and tell me everything is going to be alright. What wouldn't I give for understanding. What wouldn't I do to feel whole. What wouldn't I reveal to someone who showed me they wanted to see. It comes down to love doesn't it. What wouldn't anyone do for that little word called love that encompasses the greatest emotion of all.

Derailed

       Derailed plans. This is the divine structure of being a parent. Shelby is pretty sick, so in town we are staying today and probably for the next few days! A doctor visit and now we are hiding out at my parents home. Not quite what I had planned, but the upswing of things is they have a computer and are out of town. So poof, I'm back and incredibly, I have tons of time on my hands.

       A beautiful thing happens when you change your cell phone message, and turn the damn thing off. Clarity of silence is amazing. I turned it on briefly this morning and panicked when it rang within the first 4 minutes. I made a few calls and off it went, back to cell phone banishment for another 6 days. Can I just say I LOVE IT. Technology has it's pluses, but it also has it's huge downside. There is no escape if you have all the modern devises.

       I had a wonderful weekend. I think I'll just leave it at that. Breathing is a good thing and for a few days I took many deep breaths. Coming back into town this morning, I had a sense of foreboding stirring in my stomach, back to that gut kicked feeling. But once safely hidden inside my parents home I began to relax again. Checking all of their kitchen cupboards I've found great stashes of Grandparents goodies, so us girls will be able to snack on junk food, hang out and enjoy ourselves. It's not the same as the Mountains, but it will do until my little teen is feeling better.

       I wrote the word wonderful up there. I really like that word. Wonderful is such a state to be in, I think there should be more wonderful in this here life of ours. Wonderful can be used to describe a beautiful feeling, emotion, a mountainside or river, a moment, another person. When wonderful is gone from my life, my perspectives and sight falters in such a manor I began to drown in things like turmoil, heartache, decisions and choices.

       Wonderful is something illusionary tangible, something that can be achieved when you go out and seek it's likeliness out. Wonderful can be a well placed thought, a hug from another, reading a book or essay from a talented author. Think about a poem that reached deep down inside you and rustled things up a bit, that's a wonderful thing.

       Maybe I'm just in a wishful, wonderful, full of hope stage in my life and the graffiti on a train would look like wonderful expressions of art right now. Of course, just as wonderful and hope seem to surface, I still feel those constricting moments of ,oh holy shit, what's going on here. Maybe time will truly heal all, I'm not broken, just a intricately splintered piece of fine stemware right now.

       It's all good. The mental battles that go on inside me sometimes is Oscar producing stuff. A modern day Gladiator series, fear factor has nothing on the mental battle that wages on inside this old mind of mine. All the different thoughts battling for their own agenda, I think sometimes if some shrink doctor could take a tour through the corridors here in my mind, I'd be on a tossed into a 6 month sabbatical for further testing.

       It's all good. Nothing like ordinary craziness. But with most crazy people <and I do believe we all harbor some bit of crazy in us, if not, damn how boring would the world be> , we can be quite magical performers. Never let em see your gladiator battles and you too will be perceived as normal, right? All subjective, all appearances, all is good.

       Ok, before I'm sent to the crazy ward section of Internet Land, I'll lay off the crazy talk. Rambling is a talent of looney people. I've had the pleasure (insert a tone of sarcastic here) of spending time in a few true mental wards. I have a brother, who has spent his time meandering the hallways of such places. It's the most amazing people watching ever. But, that, can be a big old entry all on it's own. <And no, he's not crazy, in clinical terms, but I'd argue with that at times, his frequent visits stem from temporary alcohol induced physco moments>

       Ok, back to I'm just a simple gal with regular issues, nothing short of a normal ordinary day. Sounds better that way. But then again, I am the gal hiding out, so who knows what's considered normal and ordinary these days. Normal is nothing short of my illusions of the difference between what is, and what can be.

 Mercy me, I'm back.

A New Tone

      A new tone.

Thats what I imagine my journal will reflect in the month of April.

     It's a nice disappoint to me, that this is the week my journal was featured. A week when the fight for change was most prevalent. Time to write was very limited and my mind was wandering down a melancholy path of thought.

       I would like to thank everyone for coming by, for so many comments that truly did lift my spirits. The people who really know me in this world, and I mean REALLY know how to get to the somewhat iron walled person inside me, know that the easiest way is through writing and music. In this dimension, your words back to me are absorbed within me with reverence.

       I have to leave my home for about a week. Impromptu vacation, we will call it. In this case of diversity, I have no desire to stand around watching it play out the door. I fear when I return I will no longer have a computer to link me to this world. But, I'm not too worried about it. Life can't be replaced, but a computer can. If that turns true, I'll be off to Best Buy purchasing a new vehicle to divine Internet land.

       Hold down the fort for me everyone. It will be quiet around these pages for a least a week, maybe even more. I'll be taking the old fashioned writing tools with me. You know, those archaic articles like pen and paper. Imagine all I will have to catch up on!

       Now, I pass on the torch of the #2 position on the AOL journals pics. Hey Joe, you or I had bad timing, is there a column for second chance picks? For those who didn't get to enjoy their first time through the front and center page correctly? Of course, thats just a thought Joe :o)

       Nature imitate herself.
A grain thrown into good ground brings forth fruit.
A principle thrown into a good mind brings forth fruit.
Everything is created and conducted by the same master
~The root, the branch, the fruits~
~~The principles, the concequences~~
Blaine Pascal

I'll be back soon, take care everyone...................

Wisdom

Bump, thump. Here I am. Don't talk, don't speak. Listen. Everything is just fine. Achieving is a silent road. Whisper your thoughts. Shhh, listen. Change is a shift of wind, subtle hints and blaring moves.

        Don't talk, don't speak, don't whisper, don't mutter. I feel, don't interject that which is done.

        I suggest a twist. Soul can be found without bowing to the graces of the masses.  Existing in a world between heaven and earth, an earthiest as the great Edward Abbey so eloquently put, I stand for what I stand on. Don't travel through with judgment. Just listen, it isn't a hard concept.

Stealing from the reserves now.

        Subjective moods, intricate thoughts, you don't know how you arrived here, but it's staring at you bold and forefront. Don't direct it. This isn't a production.

         It's a thought on the tip of your mind. Guilt is a terrible controlling factor. Till there is nothing left it will bleed you to submission. Shh, don't talk, don't mutter. I wanted to move to this side of the fence. Waving good-bye to the coat that weighted my shoulders. Goodnight darling. I move into the column of memory. 

         I'm still here, it's the end of the song. New composition, a composer of life, shhh be open. Might I suggest a new suitcase. For the first time, I understand what's contained in my luggage. With each nod of agreement, these lessons I drag around seem lighter.

Is that where the strenght of wisdom prevails from?

Change

Main Entry: [2]change
Function: noun
Date: 13th century
1 : the act, process, or result of changing: as a : ALTERATION change in the weather> b : TRANSFORMATION change> changes> c : SUBSTITUTION change of scenery


       Once upon a time, there was a fairy princess who lived a life of thought. Her days were spent serving others while her mind was filled with notions, idea's of life and grandeur. She often thought of how long she would have to sing that single song to the same people over and over. She longed to take flight herself, move among the tree's, over the Mountains and across the rivers.

       The fairy princess fought often enough, the constraints that bound her to such turmoil. She had heard of the other princesses locked away in towers guarded by dragons, other princesses sleeping away their days till their prince kissed them into fantasy land. Hell, all one princess had to do was drop a shoe and she was rescued.

        But no, this princess knew she would have to slay her own dragons, there was no room for sleeping away her days, and she certainly wasn't willing to give up one of her signature black boots. No, this princess had to find the guts to take a stand, both boots firmly on her feet, face her demons head on and conjure her own potion of courage. It may have taken her longer then she would have liked, but she turned thought into action. She realized all those other princesses simply sat on their ass waiting for their prince charming to rescue them, and this princess decided she wouldn't put such expectations out there on a billboard.

       That was a solution, she could have waited till her tower was covered in cobwebs and her days of sleeping would have needed more then just a kiss to wake her up. No, this princess decided enough rainy days had fallen, enough wishes gone to fairy dust and life was whisking by her at a rapid pace below the clouds. She wiped her tears away and faced life, she clicked her black stiletto heals together and made her three wishes known.

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      I have a quote I've read often enough, it's burned into my mind. "If you risk nothing at all, you risk everything." Anonymous

        Change. To change. I've made a change. It's a one life, one chance kind of change that I've put 5 years into and haven't been able to let go of. I've let go. There is never a good time for such things. But when you find your mind constantly thinking, "when the time is right." Or my catalyst I've fallen back on frequently "This isn't a good time for this person." There is never a good time to make a big change for ME.

        Time is that word that's really begun to haunt me. I've used such things as time as a crutch for so long. When the time is right, when the moment is perfect, when the mood is even, when, when, when. You can when things to death if you let it become an excuse to avoid change. You can guilt yourself into staying in something you know is all wrong, when you place everything that is you to the wayside.

        That is what has become of me. The wayside. I know this may seem irrational. But here's food for thought. As those of you whom visit my little corner of the Internet, you may have noticed I enjoy writing, I write a lot, I have a lot to type from my fingertips as my extension of mind, but until this last fall, I hadn't wrote for years. I had lost the ability to write. It was in essence, taken away from me. I won't entirely blame this one person, but all that was creative, all that was the dreamer in me, the creative side, was brushed away to make room for another's thoughts, life, needs. Done.......

        I realize, excuses and reasons aren't necessary, it's just a glimpse. Change needs to be my focus right now and that is what is in place. I can't imagine losing again the things thatmade Rebecca, who she once was. Change is focus, a new chapter to be written. A new book really. It's been such a long road, but I've taken that step onto the new path.

      LOL what a week to be a featured journal. Damn, talk about more bad timing :o) Time must be of female accent, only time/female could be so temperamental, and do things atthe most inopportune moments.

      But change, although hard, nothing like feeling boot kicked in the gut for days on end, can also signify wonderful things happening. The sky although still a bit dark and dreary, seems to be opening up, letting some light in. Change is bringing the sun back out into my life, my shadow not as prominent. I'm looking at the sun now, happy to see it's warmth, light and all the possibilities ahead of me.

       Change is good. Was a motto someone made up as some sort of joke. It should read more like, change will scare the death out of you, it will challenge you to face what you fear the most, but change can happen if you take the step past the line of time and excuses.

It's another wonderful day............

Art Gateways

I've never done a weekend assignment from John Scalzi  By The Way so this is my first attempt. I'm usually pretty bad at boxed assignments or guidelines, so this of course will be my own take on the assignment.........I couldn't resist the topic, one of my favorites, Artwork.
        Weekend Assignment #50: Tell us about an artwork -- painting, sculpture or other visual work -- which had a significant impact on you. Note this doesn't have to be your "favorite" piece of art, or the one you like the most (although it can be, if you want): I'm looking for the work that made you think, or affected you in an unexpected way.
Extra Credit: Assuming money was no object, how much would you spend on a piece of art?

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         Can you feel that? Strokes of imagination,  inspiration and emotion. This is what Artwork represents to me. An emotion or feeling of being transported to a world in the artists mind. Sometimes it's a transport into my own mind, a picture, or impression, throws open a door inside this world called my mind, and my thoughts are off and spinning.
      
       There are moments I look into a picture and feel a sensation of great emotion. One of my favorite pictures out there by the brilliant James C. Christensen, evokes emotions within me I cannot even express from my own vault of words. It's called Sleeper of Lost Dreams. I think the title explains it well enough.

  It is the type of artwork that I can get lost in thought staring at. This picture tosses open that door of emotion and feeling for me. The significance of this picture resonates within myself as symbolic of my many missing pieces in my own consciousness. Artwork which shows a reflection of mind is what draws me to it's canvas.

       Interpretation is personal and different for anyone who takes the time to really look. Someone else could look at this picture and think of their own God and angels. Another could look at this picture and simply see a broken angel. The individual mind can produce such unique and whole impressions of something that cannot be compared to another.
      
       Thats the beauty of Artwork. There is no wrong impression, there is no one answer, much like life itself. It's the art of being open to all impressions and possibilities. That is the beautiful thing about the often ignored concept of free thought and expression.

     I find art in all mediums extraordinary. Be it paintings, a photograph, a child's drawn stick figures, or the ever glorious master artist, Mother Nature herself. Always meant to evoke a pause from humanity, Artwork is the form that which creative process can move uncensored.

       Everyone needs a touch of inspiration on the shoulder. For those time's when weaknesses and life start to feel like the weight of the moon on your mind, open a book, go to a gallery, step outside. It's that easy.

This last piece of Artwork is also by the gifted James C. Christensen.

The title: Sometimes the Spirit Touches us Through Our Weakness.

As for the extra credit, what wouldn't I pay, to own these moments in time someone once dreamed of.

I've always thought, and perhaps this is a quote somewhere I'm slightly stealing from, but an artist's brush is the gateway into exploration of other worlds, so go forth, explore, discover. The mind is always hungry for beauty in this world.

Who Me?

       Well, wow. I wish I had even 10 minutes notice about this AOL journal Editors feature. I would have straightened things up around here, dusted off the columns, spiffed up the headers or something.

       The entry I left this morning could be enough to scare off any potential new readers :o) Thankfully, I have fellow journalers who have frequented my journal enough now, that your all used to sporadic unleashing of thoughts and words like that. You don't send me and my bag of words off to the psycho ward of Internet land. Whew!

       Ramblings. Thats what our new editor Joe themed as my journal. Tipping my hat to Joe. Joe said it was possibly an unflattering name on the message board. Well, maybe, maybe not. I do tend to ramble. I shamelessly admit to going off on small little rambling moments from time to time. <Come on, admit it, my journal friends, sometimes your probably shaking your head trying to read my writing, thinking wow, this chick can ramble on and on, LOL a lot like right now>

       Rambling is simply a way to clean out the clutter that seems to float around aimlessly through all the corridors here in my mind. It's also a nice safe medium to write what I will, without regard to what others think. I keep my journal safely hidden away from family and personal friends. I like to think it keeps things "real" in a sense, I don't have to worry about editing for privacy against those who "know" me.

       Rambling is a way for me, to do what I love. Writing. Online journals is relatively new to me, since I believe last October. Writing thoughts is something I've done since I could hold a pencil. Journals by the truckload I have stashed away. I've come to love this form of writing, online journals. I can still release all my thoughts, sometimes day to day life. I can adorn my pages with visual aspects that pleases my eye. I receive feedback and comments on my idea's and wanderings. Every little comment is like mini-Christmas presents. I get to read new insights, new idea's on my opinions. I feel inspired by other journals I read, inspired by the wonderful comments left on my journal. <see I'm rambling Joe>

       All right, just alittle more rambling. I had thought back in December when I got the "we might feature you email" that because of my response I wouldn't be selected. I had that privacy worry that if by chance I was featured and made #1 <you never know> , my picture <there goes privacy from family and friends> would be front page to something. So I had responded back with "Sorry, can't give you permission for a pic." So #2, that fixes that issue!

       Ok, without further rambling, and resisting giving a Sally Field speech here. I just wanted to say thank you. Especially to those who have visited me before my 5 minutes of fame :o) To any new visitors, thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoy my little corner of Internet land. Don't forget, if you leave a mini-Christmas present comment, a link to your own journal is always appreciated!

        Another beautiful day..............

      

Another day

And I will never touch the yesterday like I had.
                                  I've seen twice what could have been. I can't see the vision through your eye's.       I see the sun through my own vision now.

       Reach and feel the twilight of night, there is no warmth from the moon. A shadow but formed, a dream still chased.       And I cannot feel the touch of your something real.       I am more then I will show.

        Walking on a thin surface of hope, I know life moves on below. I wish I could show you, all that is here.  I am the thought that passes in mind.       A painters touch upon the temple of mind and curses of violence and love.   
       I will learn how to nod at yesterday and face the horizon of my future. I saw below the surface and I saw the teachings of life before the shadow was cast.

Iris will continue to grow.

And I will reach to the limits of strength that can be found here.      It's the shadow to be revealed as my sky begins to clear.

Cease to amaze the most formidable moments.

Chances gone into the twilight of moments. I was shown what was needed to be discovered.                And I will never push the past in front of me. It is where it belongs, in dreams and shadows.     It's time to start a new future, be patient for me.                      

Out on the horizon I will chase time and fall to my knees in pleading forgiveness. Time will align me.
It's another beautiful day. 

Today

Today. I escaped with my girls.

Today, the weather astounded us all with near 70 degree weather! I threw off the business suit, tossed on the jeans, waders and off to the river.

I am lucky in this beautiful area I call home. We have our own slice of heaven right through the middle of town. It's less then 3 minutes from my house. When I can't escape the city, I find myself on this one special  island romancing the time away, smiling over the memories of this place.

The girls are always happy to join me. The island is a paradise to explore, they often fish with me or search for little shellfish along the shore. We spend alot of time on this island we call our own. This is the first time I've made it to the island this year and much to the girls delight, there was a huge tree trunk beached in the sand. They climbed all around it, fished from it.

We didn't catch a single fish. I spent alot of my time teaching Kaitlyn flyfishing and she pronounced she decided what she would like for her birthday in a few short weeks. A flyrod. She's a natural, a fishaholic and I love teaching her all I know. Shelby is only semi-interested in fishing. She's much happier exploring the banks, looking for animals and interesting rocks. She's also my mini-photographer.

It was an ordinary day, that meant the world to me. I'd become so blinded by work and life's little hell's lately that I've let one of my passions fall to the wayside. It was the exact renewal I needed today. A touch of sunlight, the sounds of the river, the girls laughing and playing. Today was ordinary beautiful. 

Reading

       Since I have been on my dreamy fairy tale kick musings this last week, I fear I have one more take I must toss around here on my currently blank page. <Yes, I have no problem over filling blank pages>    
       
       I very rarely watch TV. There just isn't time in the day for me personally to be lost doing nothing. So my personal moments are always spent reading, writing, drawing and well various other projects. I'll catch the occasional movie. I have a point here, I really do............

       I view spending as much time as I do reading, or the occasional movie, I can't help but say my mind spends a lot of time in "other" worlds. I think back to a little book I read when I was young, Alice in Wonderland. I'll mention that one, because I'd bet most at least saw the movie. When I read that, I was whisked off to another world, full of surprises, quirky characters and mind twisting visuals.

       Anytime a person reads a great book, if the author has done their job, you can't help but feel transported into that world. If a movie is done just right, you can walk away with a lump in your throat, a feeling of hope, despair or elation. I love a good science fiction movie, it can show a whole different world someone else has dreamed up, what could be more fun for the mind to digest?

       If I've given the impression I'm a walking fantasy disaster, I can assure, that most people think I'm pretty squarely placed on my shoulders. I am perfectly able to place reality and all it encompasses into my day to day. No real choice in that matter.

       I don't expect fairy tale endings and "The Notebook" type of love story. I don't expect things to rise and fall like an authors perception of life in their dream world. I understand there is no one plot to my life. But I do think I am always in the midst of my character development. I do not expect to have extraordinary prose in my life. There is no real theme other then getting to the other side of this life happy, and content. All right, with just a touch of happily ever after :o) 

      So my wonder of the day is this. Do those who spend a regular amount of time inside the fantasy worlds of another <books and the occasional movie can produce similar results>, find themselves daydreaming about "what if's" more then the average person? I really doubt this is an exclusive Rebecca quirk.

       In fair comparison, lets take a person who lets say, rarely reads, watches their statistical American quota of 4 hours of TV a night and never writes a thought down. Do those people find their minds wandering around the world of creative prose and just don't let the rest of us in on it? I just have to ask, it's what I do. Tonight I am most curious what others think on this notion.

Fairy Tales

    Sometimes, I shamelessly admit, my mind likes to wander somewhat above the clouds in a fairy tale like suspension. The difference between accomplishing nothing and dreaming about the possibilities.

       This weekend I started mulling over other fairy tale notions out there. Simple examples came to mind, probably the fairy tales I grew up with. I know recently I whined about chick flicks and their implications, but I realize now, there are some much bigger, looming fairy tales I overlooked.
      
       There is the beautiful Snow White. I watched that wicked Queen with her clever mirror on the wall. The seven little men all being won over with Snow Whites dazzling white smile, her dark black hair, and her ever so sweet temperament. We can't forget her incredible cleaning and organization skills! The glimpse of the Knight in shining armor. The apple of course, this is one time the doctors were wrong, an apple a day, did Snow White no good. 
       
       But here's where things go drastically unbalanced. Why does sweet little Snow White get to fall into a dreamy state of unconsciousness while the fight battles around her? There is no stress to this. There is no dramatic decisions to be made. I saw no tears, no hurt feelings, or long drawn out moments of emotional turmoil. Nope, the lady simply got to sleep, and wake up to a sweet kiss and little birds fluttering around her. Where's the justice in that little tweak of imagination?

       Then there's the doomed Sleeping beauty marked for tragedy before she had even had a chance to screw things up for herself.  She gets to lead the first part of her years peacefully singing to birds and forest animals. Again, they always give that little glance of the Knight in shining armor. 
            
       Then she gets the bonus of finding out she's a princess and not a penniless pauper. Woohooo good-bye birdies and peasant dresses. Sure she feels in love, but before she can enter the world of heartache and despair, she fulfills her destiny and pricks her finger, back to that sleep and you shall be rescued theory! Waiting out period I'll call it. Again, another gal gets to sleep off her worries, in a comfort of dreamy, dreams unconsciousness.

       Her prince of course, battles the world around her and plants that sparkling kiss of enlightenment on her. Hallajuhah for a good long rest, she's vibrant, rested and ready for her night/Knight. This is a kids fairy tale, so of course they skipped showing us that part.

       At least the next fairy tale has a touch of reality in it, I'm talking of Cinderella of course. At least she spends her days singing to little birdies while cleaning the floor. There is a form of subconscious parallelisms. Being house maid to others, yet damn if the girl doesn't keep her cheerio attitude and multitask like a professional.

       They really play up the victim story line in this one. Yet with a swish of a fairy Godmothers wand, she's decked to the nines. If it was the year 2005 her shoes would have been Manolo Blahniks. She has her glorious, hook him in the back with her spectacular smile and un-pretentious demure, kind of night. He was a goner before the shoe dropped!

       So why do I mention these fairy tales of unrelevent nature. Because I felt like it. I don't think I sit around dreaming of a Knight in shining armor coming to rescue me. But I do remember the feeling you get after you left such a fairy tale like movie. Much like reading a great epic type love story in a book. You sit back, and your mind wanders to the what "ifs."
      
       Alright maybe it's just my mind that does this to me. Maybe it's just the mind of a person with an over active imagination. This is what happens when you love a great story line. Story lines take you to another world, mix things up a bit and sits you right back down where you started. The mind of a reader and writer, welcome to the  fairy tale, twilight zone <Cheshire grin>

                                              Don't we all dream of the "happily ever after"?

Thirteen

It's done, I have two feet officially in the teenage daughter zone. That's right, the big 13 today. 13, isn't that supposed to be an unlucky number? To those superstitious folks,  isn't there some sort of voodoo associated with the number 13? Aren't most high story buildings devoid of the 13th floor?

       As I embark on this new stage of female daughter evolution I sit back and take a deep breath. You could say I reserve a lot of fears, deep down in the back parts of my mind, because of my own teenage follies.

       If I look back over my teens, still to this day they seem so very fresh in my mind. I know not everyone makes such bad choices in their teens, but I did. I was the perfect student, perfect athlete, probably as perfect daughter as you could want up until about 15ish. Then for reasons unknown <ok I know, but I don't feel like sharing>  I snapped into this well, picture a nightmare of a teenage daughter and that was me.

       I won't go into sordid details, all those skeletons have been locked up nice and tight. I told them along time ago that the little black box they reside in will be a lonely world. They aren't invited to come out rarely, if ever. The good part in all that was, I did emerge on the other side of those years alive, healthy and ready to make a life for myself.

       From the night my first daughter Shelby was born 13 years ago, I've always held this fear in my heart of the teenage years. I've been plotting for years on how to avoid some of the pitfalls and traps that can be found. I only hope since I took those years to such extremes I will be able to help guide her around some of the paths that can be tempting, but mercilessly cruel.

       We had a wonderful day, I watched her flounce around in some new clothes, and although we turned 13, she choose to do the same thing she has for year as her birthday gathering. We have a big family and everyone was there to celebrate. She scored a bounty. 

       When we got home this evening, I did as I have every year since she was tiny, I told her the entire story of the beautiful Tuesday she was born on. March 3, 1992. 
      

Here's a math equation for you. 4 Kids, one stuffed animal claw machine. How many quarters did it take to win all those stuffed animals tonight? In case it's not showing clearly 14 stuffed animals! They were on a roll tonight!

 

No, Nope, Nadda

Main Entry: [3]no
Pronunciation: 'nO
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s):  plural noes or nos /'nOz/
Date: 1588
1 : an act or instance of refusing or denying by the use of the word no : DENIAL 
2 a : a negative vote or decision b : plural : persons voting in the negative

         I am here today to admit I have a problem. I am virtually incapable of saying a simple two letter word. No. There it is, that damn N, and insignificant O. Such a little word, but when weighted against big words like decisive and mindset, the word NO seems to weight me down into paralyzation.
        
         For clarification, I can say simple things like "No, I don't want to super size, fatten me up, my fries size" This isn't going to make the voice in the speaker phone feel bad. Now, if I knew he was getting commission on every supersize fatten me up size he pawns off on customers, I would probably give second thought to my no.
        
         It is the questions posed to me that usually fall in the range of "Will you do this for me" or "Will you please help me" or "Please will you let me stay" or "Will you do my work for me." Hmmmm. I just realized basically any sentence that starts with Will You, I'm toast, I'm a sucker for the 'will you' sentences.

        For example, if a 'will you' question is posed to me, that instinctively my initial response inside this mind of mine is NO, my mouth freezes into a twisted vise grip of silence. Next, my mind begins to formulate an answer that has either 1) gets me out of committing to therequest without possibly hurting that persons feelings or 2) I hear the words 'OK I'll do it' or 'all right if thats what you need' coming out of my mouth, while my mind is screeching a big resounding NOOOOOOO.

         I've really spent a lot of time thinking this problem over. All I can come up with is a distinct difference between my mind and heart. My mind has no problem thinking all the no's it wants. It's the heart that always seems to quickly jump in the way. If feelings are involved, the rational side of my mind is promptly pushed aside to make way for this creature of a softy who buckles at the first sign of heartstrings being played. Yes, I am a whimsical wimp.

         My name is Rebecca and I have a problem. I cannot say No. Where's the handbook to the next 11 steps?

         I was discussing this issue in IM world with an online friend the other day. Which of course prompted this thought process and entry. Without my realizing the blunt lesson out the gate <I was slow on the draw> He types in something along the lines of "Will you go out on a date with me" and I, even behind the shield of computer screen instantly thought of how many ways I could say no without hurting his feelings. After typing in a few wishy washy how am I going to get out of this predicament, he typed back, "why don't you just say NO." It was then the lesson he was trying to teach me hit me in the head, two by four style.

         I typed back that seemed so mean to just say No. I felt that familiar grip of 'oh I don't want to hurt this persons feelings.' It was then he said something thats been sitting pretty heavily. He said "You are not responsible for my feelings, if you want to say No, then do it." Can it really be that simple? If it was that simple then why the hell do I struggle with it so perpetually?!!
        
         I think it falls along the lines of not being true to my own wishes. I consistently pick the other persons feelings over my own. It's been a hard learned lesson many years in the making. So many choices I let slide by, reduced by the act of silence, due to fear of hurting another. Why or when I became a person who teeters along the lines of 'pleaser,' rather then being true to myself, is my mystery to solve.

         The good news is I'm on the way to redemption. My business partner called today and requested I do something he was more then capable of doing himself. I almost fell into the old "OK, I'll get to it" But alas, progress, I straightened my back, untwisted my silence from it's vise grip and said "I don't have time to do it, you'll have to take care of this one." <And yes, I could feel him fall off his chair on the other side of the phone in utter disbelief>

          Now, that wasn't a simple no, but in my world it was pretty direct and defined. That my friends is a step for mankind. OK, maybe not mankind, but it should count as step 2 in the handbook right? 

         So I question. Just how many others out there need to join this 12 step plan with me. Does human heart on the whole have a problem telling people no? Is this a heart issue or a mind issue? I can't help but point out some of the gender differences I notice. Men on the general don't seem to have these 'no' issues and usually seem to call it like it is. While us females hymn an avoidance dance when the touchy part of feelings are involved. Then again, I have a select few friends who have no problem telling anyone and everyone the big old NO word when they see fit.        

  All right, I've fessed up one of my most tiresome weaknesses. If you all suddenly comment with "Will you give me a thousand bucks" I'll simply say no or something close to it, because you have an unfair advantage. Using this information for ill will, would simply be bad ethics. The confessional is closed.