life lessons in a blink
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 7,200 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 12 years to get that many views.
so.. i bet you’ve been wondering “what’s goin on in school?”, “how did you do?”, “what have you been writing about?” well…
here’s your answer.
i am currently on hiatus from school. shocked? i know, me too. i was doing well for the first two classes (a B- in the first and an A- in the second) and then the third one hit: Mythology in Literature. hundreds upon hundreds of pages about the origin of the word, it’s first use, it’s first reference and the mysteries contained therein. it was exhausting. and that was just the first week. there were four more to go. needless to say, it was like trekking uphill in a torrential downpour. i found myself exhausted, tired, pooped and plain ole bored to death. i was unable to keep up. to top it off, my son got sick, i got sick and my mojo sprouted wings and took off. quickly. i failed.
then, the next class started. i was still stuck on stupid with mythology (which i thought i would absolutely love) so i was already behind. i felt like i was looking at myself through the rear view mirror… i was in the car, traveling forward, but leaving myself behind at the same time. i bowed out gracefully and quit while i was ahead (technically).
so, i’ve taken a six week leave of absence. i have about four weeks to go. i’m taking the time to dote on my son, to clean, to spring clean and overhaul the closets, drawers and office space. i’m hoping that if i declutter my world, it might extend into my mind. hoping, i say.
i’m not telling you this because i’m proud. i’m sharing with you because i was devastated. when i received the email from my counselors, suggesting that i take some time off i almost burst into tears. but why? it was obvious to me and everyone around me that i was struggling and floundering… neither of which is complimentary. still, i didn’t want to hear someone tell me “you seem overwhelmed”. i was. i am. i will be again. but at least i can see it, i know it, and that gives me the opportunity to try and deal with it.
now, don’t get me wrong. i’m not changing my mind or getting cold feet. “going back to school” is a great thing to do. it’s an awesome suggestion and a noble quest for anyone who wants to do better, be better, get better or live better. that’s all of us, right? so, going to back to school is not the problem. it’s time and time management. well, that’s the problem for me.
i’ve always known this and i’ve actually taken two classes regarding being a better student including specifics regarding time management, priorities and being successful at school and home. but as you all know, all the planning in the world is useless if it’s not put into place. good intentions are rhetoric without action.
there are only so many hours in the day. some of those are spent sleeping, eating, traveling and working. the rest of the time is mine.. well, my son’s. i have duties and responsibilities to him and to our household. that leaves me with nil. and in that nil amount of time, i’m supposed to be a student. a good one.
let me tell you, it’s no easy feat – this online school jazz. you have to be present in your classroom forums at least four or five days out of the week. you have to answer the questions appropriately (with classroom related reading quotes and citations), respond to your classmates, participate in your learning teams and write papers that are supposed to be critiqued and corrected through the online research paper destroyer grader. it’s got a four day turnaround. your instructor, classmates and team mates are in different states, countries and time zones. they are of different cultures, languages, religions and mindsets. add to that the household and everything contained with it and you can see why i needed a breather after only ten weeks. and i have a whole year to go! yes, a whole year. i’ll be in school until november of 2013. shoot me now.
why did i do this? why did i do this to myself? i think that’s my reason for writing. i wanted to see it all in black and white for myself. i want to read my own reasons for pursuing a high education:
dear neesh~
you are going back to school because what you have now can’t be it. there’s got to be more. there’s bigger, better, stronger, faster, and lots more –ers out there for you and your son and you want them. you need them. you deserve them. that’s why you did it. you want your son to have what he needs, most of what he wants and the wherewithal to go get what he doesn’t have. you want him to see you working, schooling, and mom-ing and know that this is what it takes. you want him to know it takes hard work, sacrifice, saving, arguing, budgeting and all that grown-up stuff to have a real life. to have a life made of dreams. to have a life worthy of writing and reading about. you want him to see that life is what you make it and you’re making his great. now, get off your @$$ and get back to the grind. stay on top of the reading and do your work. this is real life. this is your one chance. the days are going to be long, hard and sleepless. they are going to be rough. there will be good ones and bad ones, but when you’re done — there’ll be great ones. give up a little so you can get a lot. you have it in you. you do.
~your conscience
so i’ve taken a moment to assess my situation and tackle my most visible obstacles.
i won’t know until school comes back around and i’m knee deep in it, whether or not my list of self-awareness will be of any benefit. i can say that going back to school was a kick in the pants. i thought i knew what it would take to be successful, but the last time i was in school i was single and childless.
there are not enough hours in the day to be working-student-SuperMom. but i’m going to make it work. i want SuperBoy to have opportunities and experiences and not all of them will be free. i want him to know the value of hard work and sacrifice… because i want him to take advantage of everything life has to offer. i want the world for him, and i’m going to get it… as soon as i get it together.
the same photo in my course book
Home Is Where the Heart Is[A1]
Tanisha Ware
ENG / 125
Saturday, September 29, 2012
O. A., Ph.D[A2] .
Somewhere along the way, a negative connotation was attached with the responsibilities of a classically defined female gender role[A3] . Women maintained[A4] the children and the home while men provided structural[A5] and financial support to his family. Julia Alvarez makes it clear that the work of the woman – the “Woman’s Work” is an art and it is to be recognized and respected. Even as a young girl, employed to assist rather than allowed to play, our narrator understood the effort and precision as she watched her mother meticulously prepare their home, time and again. The author’s words fill the girl with an overwhelming sense of pride and point out that the keeping of the home, is “nothing less than art” (Alvarez, 1996[A6] ).
Managing a home is hard work. There was a time when it was considered woman’s work, meaning it held less respect (to some) than the responsibilities held by men. House-husbands were a concept yet-to-be [A7] discovered and the place for a woman was in her home. Respectfully so, the narrator of Julie Alvarez’s “Woman’s Work” values the efforts of her mother and shares a sense of gratification at a job well done. The narrator begins with her mother’s advice to “keep house as if the address were your heart” (Alvarez, 1996). As she describes their planned route through the house, the reader can feel the child’s frustration with the sigh she expresses at hearing her “friends outside” (Alvarez, 1996). She expresses her frustration with having to sweep until her mother was satisfied. But she still refers to it as art[A8] .
If it is unclear to the reader what the narrator is feeling, in line nine she simply sates that she felt “like a prisoner in her housebound heart”. Even still, her complaint seems warm and hardly worthy of “prisoner”. The narrator appears to be complaining but soon refers to herself as “[her] masterpiece” and “smart” (Alvarez, 1996). The narrator, the daughter – shows a positive outlook on her mother’s woman’s work because she knows it for what it is. Difficult. She not only respects the woman, she also respects her work. The narrator goes on to express the direction and advice given by her mother but proclaims that she “did not want to be her counterpart” (Alvarez, 1996)! Having “struck out” (Alvarez, 1996) the narrator “became her mother’s child” (Alvarez, 1996) and even though she tried to do something else, be something else… she returned to the familiar territory of art[A9] .
The author uses end rhyming stanzas to set the tone. The word “heart” or “art” is present in every stanza and both are present in the final four lines. This follows with the theme that home is where the heart is. The narrator and author seem to be one in [A10] the same. She writes from a familiar first person point of view that pulls the reader directly into her shoes. [A11] Or the shoes she has created.
The author pulls the reader in with short, but vivid, descriptions of her mother’s hard work. She begins with the bathroom tiles. The two words alone bring to mind the scrubbing and cleaning of grout and fixtures, all requiring a different substance and tool to get the job done. A subtle fact not mentioned or credited when discussing a woman’s work.
The narrator’s mention of cleaning the upstairs before the down is also remnant of a first person perspective. Most people don’t put much thought to the cleaning[A12] process but this woman has specific directions. The sigh that is mentioned can be heard by the reader. And feel the humidity of the exhale and the vibration of the low, guttural half-sigh, half-growl that would escape the mouth of a child that would be listening to their friends instead of interacting with them. [A13]
The reader is almost apt to believe that the child narrator is inexplicably sad and oppressed by the cleanliness of her mother, but each line reveals love, adoration and respect. The author shares a daughter’s perspective of the “hard art”, the “art”, the “art” (Alvarez, 1996). The author and narrator are amazed. The narrator would love to deny her love for the clean but matures only to find her own form of heart-art.
There have been and always will be gender roles and gender specific expectations. The lines between these things has[A14] merged and diluted over time. Some lines don’t [A15] need to merge or dilute, some lines need to be recognized and respected for exactly what they are. It might look like simple housekeeping to you[A16] , but to the narrator of Julia Alvarez’s “Woman’s Work”, it’s hard art. For the young female narrator, the guidelines provided for her mother serve their purpose in the years to come. The author eludes[A17] to the fact that she may be the narrator and that her mother’s art came from her heart in the form of a clean home. The narrator’s art is the art of the heart and is most likely the words in this poem. [A18]
References
Barnet, S., Burto, W., & Cain, W. E. (2011). Literature for Composition (9th ed.). New York, New York: Longman.
[A1]This is a good title that suggests the focus of your essay. Thank you.
[A2]Hi Tanisha, the title page meets the APA guidelines. Good job.
[A3]This is an important remark. Consider how you may rephrase it with fewer words for greater clarity. Consider for example, “In the past, the classically defined role of women in the home earned little recognition/respect…”
[A4]‘looked after’ or ‘took care of the…’
[A5]How may you clarify the use of this word in this context?
[A6]Great introductory paragraph. It states the central thought of the poem and your own point of view. Good job, Tanisha.
[A7]Rephrase for clarity. Consider, ‘The concept of ‘house-husband’ was …’
[A8]This is an important comment. The narrator appears to be torn between the two apparently contradictory roles – social and personal roles!
[A9]You demonstrate a great sense of analysis, Tanisha. I love your interpretation of the narrator’s push and pull dilemma.
[A10]Remove.
[A11]This is a thoughtful interpretation of the poet’s use of the first person narrative! Thank you.
[A12]Insert, ‘house cleaning’
[A13]This is a perceptive interpretation of the poet’s use of imagery to convey her ideas about a woman’s work that was previously overlooked or ignored.
[A14]have
[A15]Try to avoid the use of contractions in an academic paper unless when they are absolutely necessary.
[A16]Remove. It is not desirable to use conversational tone in an academic paper.
[A17]How may you explain the use of this word in this context? Consider ‘alludes’
[A18]You are trying to make an important point here. How may you rephrase it for clarity?
This is a very good essay. It demonstrates a good understanding of the main points of the poem and your interpretation of the poet’s central thought is credible. The paper has a definite structure and it is focused on the celebration of the woman’s work as an art.
You discussion on the poet’s use of literary devices to express her thoughts is good. The use of quotations from the poem to support your views is remarkable.
The paper is well laid out. The introduction is comprehensive and previews the main points of the essay. The conclusion is logical and flows from the introduction and body of the paper.
Your writing skill is outstanding and the formatting style is generally consistent with the APA guidelines.
Try to proofread your essay to address minor issues of word choice and ambiguity. Good job.
Additional Comments:
Hi Tanisha, your paper on “Close Reading of a Poem” covered the basic requirements for this assignment.
You selected “Woman’s Work” by Julia Alvarez from our reading list as required, and you also met the word count requirement.
Your paper demonstrates a good understanding of the central thought of the poem and a grasp of the writer’s purpose and strategies.
Your analysis of the narrator’s dilemma and ultimate acceptance of the value of ‘woman’s work’ is thoughtful and credible.
Additional Comments:
The paper has a definite structure. The introduction previews the main points of the poem and defines its central idea or theme.
The conclusion is logical and flows from the introduction, giving the paper its sense of unity and coherence.
Continue to maintain the professional tone of your essay by avoiding the use of conversational words and expressions.
Additional Comments:
The paper is well laid out. Your writing skill is outstanding, and the sentences are generally clear.
Try to proofread your essay to address minor issues of word choice, punctuation and ambiguity.
page 1 of my handwritten notes
page 2 – graphic organizer and all
i’ve been a parent for a little more than five years. the fact that my son and i are both still breathing, eating and conversing let’s me know that i may, MAY, be slightly successful at it. but don’t hold me to it…. just yet. everyday my son absorbs and learns something new. and so do i.
sometimes teaching a “concept” is not as easy as it seems. for instance: learning about his physical self was something he had to experience on his own. i could (and did) warn him a hundred times over that he could bump his head while passing the kitchen table. but it didn’t matter until he actually bumped his head. he looked at the table and then looked at me with a certifiable look of “why? why didn’t you tell me it would hurt?” this was more prevalent and far more serious when he ran into the arm of the recliner and mashed his little man business. he was horrified, upset, hurt and suddenly aware. you get my drift? no amount of conversation was going to bring to light what he was feeling. he had to experience it in order to know that he never wanted to experience it again.
it is almost impossible to teach something without simultaneously learning. most times it’s just a shortcut to the end result or maybe cutting out something unnecessary. yes, parenting is a torturous lesson in teaching lessons. all the while we must maintain simultaneous levels of care, concern, fairness, equality, just, discipline, fun, guidance, respect, admiration, and sprinkle it all with a little friendship. just a little now, we don’t want them getting the wrong idea.
yesterday we went to Balboa Beach. a classic beach town with a very seventies nostalgic feel. we went to a vintage candy store specializing in salt water taffy and items that are not stocked at the local liquor store. we walked and talked and oogled the standard beach related fare. we saw some crabs, some barnacles and too many birds. we found a tall ropey-climby thing:
i cannot resist climbing… i was at the top before my son took his shoes off.
my son is five, so his world revolves around him. good thing there was that strategically placed arcade. my aunt got some tokens and he played a few games. he was mostly interested in riding a fake motorcycle. it took a few minutes but i was finally able to convince him to play skeeball. you remember skeeball don’t you?
probably the most classic arcade game ever. besides pinball, of course.
after a round or two of good ole skeeball, my son bounced about on silly little token wasters. those store front rides that barely move, a game or two with buttons that didn’t really work… but, hey, what’s that in the corner? is that an air hockey game???? well sweet potato pie from the sky!! cut off my legs and call me shorty…. WHO WANTS TO PLAY? my son accepted the challenge… poor little human.
let the tail-whoopin’ commence! i don’t care if you are 5!! oops.. did i say that out loud?
now. we, obviously had to get more tokens. and when the plastic puck was ejected and the soft blanket of air was on…. I lost all of my parenting skills. all of them. i was not interested in teaching fairness, sportsmanship or rules. i wanted to whoop some five year old ass and walk away with an I-WON-WITH-ALL-FIVE-TO-YOUR-ABSOLUTELY-NO-SCORE victory. i really did. and with the first few volleys of the puck, my PARENTING senses came back and i knew that it was my job to do the exact opposite of that. but i’ll be truthful, it was difficult.
you might think that i’m exaggerating, but i’m not. NOT. i spent years at the local skating rink playing air hockey, frogger, and 1942. i would consider myself an air hockey semi-pro. true story. so, you understand how difficult it was for me to hit softly, ignore his pulling the puck back to”try again” and the worst of the worst… to leave my goal wide open????? it hurt. it was painful. i actually had to look away to LET him score because if my eyes were to see the puck hurling toward the goal my arms and hands would instinctively smack the holy bajeezus out of that plastic green puck and send it in reverse at five times the speed and fifteen times the velocity and watch it crash into the back of the goal faster than my son could focus.. but ARGH! i was not allowed to and i DID NOT commit this travesty against childhood. but dammitalltohell if it wasn’t hard!!!
here’s the end result. he won. he smiled. we all cheered for him. shortly thereafter we left and i can’t seem to shake the fact that i HAD to LET him win. isn’t that just awful? I can tell you this… he better practice because when he’s old enough to THINK he can beat me, the tail whoopin’ will commence, and when it gets down to the wire, i’m gonna hafta dig real deep to possibly let him win. sad? I know. at least i’m truthful.
here’s something to smile about:
i’m part pirate.
headaches, nausea, dizziness..
itching, cramps, being hot or cold…
these are just some of the things that happen within us. that no one else can see, hear, feel or know is real. they have to take our word for it. sadly, it doesn’t stop there. the entire world of mental disease is one that has to be shared. no one can possibly know what is going on in the mind of another. i think it’s our most crippling condition as human beings. we are amazing, intuitive, inventing, exciting, creative creatures — but, always ALWAYS locked inside of ourselves.
i was speaking with a friend who has been upset over the recent death of Whitney Houston. she made the statement that she hoped Miss Houston was “at peace”. i, too, hope that she found peace… however far away it may have been or seemed to be. it seems like such a shame. a waste. but we all know that she wasn’t the first and she won’t be the last.
i’d love to share some facts and informative information about suicide, but looking at the word makes me a little nauseous. it’s a very scary thing. i have known a few people who were suicidal and if they hadn’t actually TOLD me with their own mouths, i would not have known until they had either been successful or at least tried. if you want some factual information, try American Foundation for Suicide Prevention and go here for statistics.
when i was in high school, we had an assembly about suicide. i was shocked that the topic was even spoken aloud and that an assembly had not only been thought about, but devised, rehearsed, approved and presented to us. what i remember most was the audio recording of a high school kid that had taken his own life. the recording stopped just before his self-inflicted fatal gun shot wound. whaaaaaat? *gasp* later, my friend derek (where are you derek?) made the statement:
“anything in life is temporary. death. death is permanent.”
miss Houston joins a list of people who we all feel left too soon. someone who was “supposed” to be happy. someone who “should have” reached out for help. it wasn’t long ago that another memorable voice bowed out, never to be heard again: Amy Winehouse. she’s just one on a list of artist’s that died before they were thirty. before they were 28. the Forever 27 Club. how upsetting is that? tragic. as well as the man who put the sooOOOOoooul in the train… Mr. Don Cornelius. what happened to them? did they try to tell us there was something wrong? why did they leave us?
suicide isn’t an entertainment disease though. it affects everyone. all ages, races, religions and preferences. it’s the curse of a human being. a weight that everyone carries. i guess you could say that we are all “carriers”, but without the right combination of pain, trauma or despair… we don’t show symptoms. i don’t understand it, but being me… i sympathize, empathize and mourn for those affected and effected by it. death is devastating enough. but it’s all the more devastating when you learn that someone CHOSE to end their own life.
my thoughts linger upon the following text:
“i have been thinking about Miss Houston and realizing, yet again, how we never know people the way we think we do. we hope, but we don’t. we can’t. it’s impossible. we can only know what they tell us and what they reveal after our endless probing and questioning. and still, we have to settle with what they tell us. it is inconceivable [to me] to be in so much angst that you wish to never take another breath or dream another dream.”
i am going to insert my disclaimer here: i can only share with you what i think and what i know from my own experiences. i do not claim to be an expert on anything outside of expressing myself. but i can tell you that as a conscious member of society, a family member and friend, i see and feel what goes on around me. i ask questions about things i don’t understand and i always try to shed light and share an alternate point of view to help others see what i see. i hope no one is offended by my thoughts and questions, but if you are, please talk to me about it. let’s converse. don’t yell at me, leave obnoxious rude comments or bad mouth me. i’m one person, sharing my point of view on my blog page. you have the exact same option. i welcome your comments, criticisms and concerns.
i have experienced my own times of doubt and worry. horrible trying times that made me wish for another place and another time. i don’t claim to know what another person could be going through. i’m sure we’ve all had problems and situations that we did not know how to deal with — but that we didn’t want to share or discuss with another for whatever reason.
it’s true that money doesn’t bring happiness. fame doesn’t either. at this juncture, it appears that fame does almost the opposite. bringing “fans”, critics, paparazzi and the like… contributing to an agitated and inflamed sense of mistrust. all the money in the world won’t help the voices in your head. harsh. you can be born a genius, labeled a prodigy, test higher than anyone ever; and in the end you could also be loonier than a bed bug, crazier than a road lizard (thanks, Imelda) and plain ole bonkers. your mind could have you convinced that there’s a whole family of YOUs living inside your own head. isn’t that powerful? all of the torture methods ever conceived and developed were meant to try to pry information out of one person and into another. sometimes, that never happens.
what are we to do? how can we fix it? you want the truth??? we can’t. smh. we can talk, text, write, phone, tape, video, chat, instant message, fax, mail and email another person to relentlessly probe them about their condition. we can ask about the way they feel and how they are doing. but how do we know that what they are saying is the truth? we have to take their word for it. we have to trust in the fact that we THINK we know them well enough and that they, in turn, are comfortable enough to tell us the truth. even if neither of us knows what the truth is.
the conversation led me to read and probe the news and articles about Miss Houston. she is an icon and her career came to fruition before my ears. she’s one of my favorite voices of all times. my research led me to People Magazine (not the Encyclopedia Britannica, but mostly trustworthy) and the key to MY point and purpose:
“…she wasn’t a “goody two-shoes,” says a record exec who worked with Houston for many years. she grew up proud of her “street” roots in Newark, N.J., says the source, but Houston was meticulously groomed by [Clive] Davis to fulfill the role of America’s Singing Sweetheart — and it was, at times, a deeply uncomfortable fit. ‘she was in pain from living almost a double life,’ says the source.”
POW! did you feel that? read it again:
“…she wasn’t a “goody two-shoes,” says a record exec who worked with Houston for many years. she grew up proud of her “street” roots in Newark, N.J., says the source, but Houston was meticulously groomed by [Clive] Davis to fulfill the role of America’s Singing Sweetheart — and it was, at times, a deeply uncomfortable fit. ‘she was in pain from living almost a double life,’ says the source.”
if we are ever forced to separate who we truly are from who we want to be.. something horrible happens. it sometimes happens to our outsides, but it mostly happens to our insides.. to our minds and our personalities. some recess into their minds and never come out again. for others, their mind takes over creating different versions of themselves to deal with their situations — to help them survive. some turn into a whole other person and the person who once was.. is no more. but for Miss Houston, she lived that other life while her real hopes and dreams stared out from the inside. all the while wanting to stop the life she was living and live the life she wanted. wanting to cease, to give up, wanting to change… but unable to.
something similar happened to a friend of mine. she was openly homosexual but was married, with children, to a woman who chose not to be openly homosexual. living a life that wasn’t of her own design forced her to be who she wasn’t. she slowly got depressed and eventually withdrew from the outside world. then she withdrew into herself. hardly smiling, never laughing and living her life from behind her own eyes.
eventually my friend broke free of her cerebral prison. but it wasn’t without pain, tears and the eventual separation of her family. she took her kids and left. she’s happier now, but it was a long road to get to that happiness. some people are not strong enough to pull away. as they sink ever further into themselves and their persona becomes their personality, their grip on reality fades and eventually fails them. they seek out vices to help them maintain. any and every vice. they look for a way to hide the pain, to numb the confusion and self-hatred. they look for a way to escape and with any vice, a tolerance can be built and eventually… enough is not enough.
how can we turn our heads, look with a blind eye or pretend that we don’t see what we see? i think it’s pretty simple. i think we are simply in denial. we chose not to see what we are seeing because it would force us to believe what we do not want to believe. we are animals by nature; therefore we are instinctual. the more advanced we become the less animalistic we remain. we sign over our instincts and rely on gadgets and devices to keep us happy, healthy and sane. we are always plugged in and turned on demanding and requiring constant input. data data data. more more more. this is a very obvious and dangerous underlying factoid in our need for instant gratification and the reason we have so much, but feel so empty.
you can have a rich life and be poor. you can have an extraordinary life and be ordinary. you can have no children, but be a parent; providing guidance and structure. the problem with any of these things is: if they aren’t what you want, they are not what you are after. and if you aren’t “after” them, seeking them… you will not find joy in them. you will not maximize them. there are many quotes about enjoying what you do. finding a career, not a job. being who you truly are is more important than anything else on your to-do list. you might not know who you are or who you want to be, just like you might not know your exact size in Calvin Klein clothing… but you are not in the wrong for not knowing. trying and experimenting and figuring out WHAT FITs is what you’re supposed to do. give it a whirl, try it on for size. whatever you do, don’t look at it in the window, buy and exact match and force yourself to fit. you’ll regret it.
be who you are. be true to you. if it’s funny: laugh. if it’s not funny: don’t laugh. an outfit might look good in the window but look like holy hell when you put it on. it could be the wrong size, the wrong color or itchy. wearing clothes that are too small, uncomfortable or inappropriately revealing can put you in a bind. wearing the inappropriate personality can drive you insane. it is not recommended. i know nothing of such trials. if you don’t know me already, i am who i am. i am seldom regretful and offer no reasons or excuses for my behavior. i am not mean or disrespectful but most importantly, i will not compromise myself. not all people are so fortunate, lucky or passionate.
we can never know another person in their entirety. what is in their mind belongs to them and only them. just as, what is in your mind belongs to you and only you. but one bad apple can spoil the bunch. turning energizing inspirational thoughts into damaging, relentless and often abusive self-depreciation. we can never be so alone in our own heads that we forget or dismiss the rest of the world. there is no reason to be hopeless, even when you feel hopeless. there is no reason to give up, even when you want to. there is no reason to leave this life of your own accord. life is a gift. even when it hurts.
everything we deal with and experience in this life is temporary. death is permanent. nothing worth fighting for is easy, right? what doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger, right? if you have a friend on your mind and want to catch up, call them. we are all on borrowed time. if you know someone who seems a bit out of sorts, check up on them, keep track of them and remind them that you care. if you know someone on the edge, pull up a chair and chat with them. share your frustrations and convince them that life, no matter how trying, is better than death. if you know someone who is suicidal, help them get help. talk with them, share with them and offer them assistance. inform them of their significance in your life. do not let them contemplate and fester alone… devising their own demise. get them! grab them! hug and squeeze them!!! make them feel your love. ❤ or you can always send them here… i have enough to share.
speechless
on Saturday, February 25, 2012 at 10:32am
if you know me, you might know that i talk a lot. i talk, laugh, yell, scream, write and text more than most of the people in my cell phone. what can i say? i’ve got a lot on my mind and there is no filter between the two. if i think it, you’re most likely going to hear it.
occasionally, i find my self at a loss for words. lately, lacking words has been my status quo. i have my blog, but haven’t blogged. i have ideas, titles and graphic organizers up to my eyeballs, but no blog entry has been made. in many weeks. honestly, i blogged myself to tears when i wasn’t working, but now that i’m part of the eight-to-fivers, typing till dawn has less ambiance. i have the words, i just don’t want to do anything with them. why is that?
to top that, my favorite guy on the planet, my son; SuperBoy has been sick. really sick. THIS IS WHAT MAKES ME SPEECHLESS. i am currently (as in, right now) sitting in the urgent care. he has a 102 fever, hives on his eyes, wheezing, coughing and a runny nose. this all happened over the last twelve hours. downhill, fast. like an elephant on skates. whooooooosh! and for the most part, it’s attributed to “a virus”. psssssh.
we have been to the doctor — or some doctorly type hangout every two weeks for the last 2 months. it started with a cold. tuesday, wednesday and thursday of that week he slowly progressed. on thursday i took him to a new doctor. breathing treatments for his asthma. the next day, friday, he still had a fever… back to the doctor for antibiotics. ten days worth. he finished the antib’s on a monday. that very next friday, BOOM! fever, cough, etcetcetc …took him to the docs office again. another new doctor that had him TRANSPORTED via ambulance to the emergency room. his blood oxygen saturation was only 80%. 😦 they gave him oxygen, breathing treatments and steroids for hours. after about eight hours, a series of xrays and 93% pulse/ox for more than an hour…, we went home.
i made a follow-up appointment with a different pediatrician through the pediatrics department. new job, new insurance, new everything. the newest doctor was concerned.. instantly. which made me concerned. he listened to my twenty minute rant and read my notes….DAMN. RAN OUTTA SPACE.
note: this was originally a “note” started from the emergency room on my aunt’s samsung tablet. i have always been inspired by the here and the now more than anything else. most of my more successful blog entries have been derived and written on the spot. obviously, i was unable to continue that day but have not lost track of what i wanted to say. i will continue now where i left off… at the new doctor’s office, sharing my son’s medical history:
thus far, my being speechless has more to do with context than content. my context, that is. where i am and what i’m doing and most importantly what it is, exactly, that is inspiring me. is it fleeting? momentary? am i trying to capture a feeling or sentiment?
in this case, the inspiration is my son and his health. an endless, topic with endless questions, quandaries and conundrums. my being rendered speechless isn’t about describing his conditions and ailments. i can tell you about so many different things, in detail, from the day he was born until now. my lack of words is directly linked with how well i am able to deal with my sons allergies, sensitivities and requirements and how prepared he is able to deal with them on his own. both off those areas could use some improvement. vast improvement.
so we were seeing the third new doctor within three weeks. his interest was definitely piqued at the beginning of our conversation. he was interested in the middle and concerned by the end. he wanted lab work. prescribed an organic diet and supplements. he wanted a return visit. I had only the look of motherhood on my face (that is a look of experience, confusion, pride, insanity, professionalism and ghetto-fabulous-ity) and my mental notebook… a cerebral trapper keeper.
simply stated: i move too slow and time moves too fast. we left the doctor that day with good intentions. soon, it was already the next week and no blood work had been done and no follow up had been made. by that next weekend, fever cough and all of those other sickly type symptoms came back to camp out. boooooo. that next saturday morning is when i started this entry. i was at urgent care. they don’t watch and monitor folk at urgent care so we were moved to the emergency room. hours later, we went home. later that night my poor SuperBoy was right back to wheezing, coughing and not being able to rest.
i took monday off, took SuperBoy to the doctor and FINALLY got him some antibiotics. my son had a rough day at child care on tuesday. he was exhausted by the time i picked him up. he spent wednesday getting some TLC from his dad, and then thursday and friday home with my aunt. it took all of those days to get him back to SuperBoy status. he was really sick. “a virus”. he did have a certifiable allergic reaction to something that he had consumed and the only thing consumed was over-the-counter fever reducer. could it have been something else? what? let’s play What Did Kenneth Eat? and we’ll try to figure out each and everything he has consumed over the last three days and see if we can’t figure it out. a game i’ve played more than once. not. a. fun. game.
it was sitting in the emergency room for the second time within a month that brought me to the most important realization ever:
i am scared to death to have anyone take care of my son and the inkling of the idea of the thought of sending him to school paralyzes me. it has scared and paralyzed me for two years and in order to not feel that fear i have completely pushed the idea of preschool and school out of my mind. stupid thing to do? certifiably! but it’s what i did just the same and it’s what i have to deal with … now.
i have been asked about my son going to school and how well he’s adapted. most folk get the most peculiar look on their face when I say “he’s not in school”. i would love to be the kind of mom that home schools, clips coupons, lives organic, and has a model behavior child. but that is simply not who we are. he is big and looks like he should be in school and he should. he needs the socialization and structure. he needs to learn commonplace behavior and acceptable misbehavior. i really do want him to be the best that he can be. but he can’t. i’ve had him here with me and with the same care provider and the same environment since i found out about the allergies. i am SCARED TO DEATH that something is going to happen.
don’t read my words in that tone of voice! you don’t know what i’ve been through. my concern is not with the school, the menu, the lunch lady (her hair net) or the teachers. my concern lies within the children. my son’s potential classmates. what if they didn’t listen or understand? what if they don’t care or are mischievous? what if the words “life threatening” are taken on a more instigatory note, as opposed to cautionary advice? what can be done if he is tempted with peanut butter or taunted with marshmallows??? how do i send my son out into the world without someone to read his labels, check his food items or refuse him something dangerous??? how do i do it?
i have watched him go from normal to asthmatic to anaphylactic while holding him in my own arms. i have seen his eyes, mouth and throat swell from the allergic reaction and watched red itchy hives take over every visible centimeter of skin. i’ve watched him struggle to breathe more times than i care to recall and honestly, i don’t ever need to see it again. every minute that he is not with me… i worry. even when he is with his father, my aunt or my best friend, i worry. and they all love and care for him. what is a stranger going to do for my baby? will it be the right thing or will it be the wrong thing?? i don’t want to think about it anymore because it makes me nervous, tense and jittery. it makes me react defensively and neurotic-like.
“educate yourself”. yes, thank you. i have done an immense amount of reading on all things related and pertaining to food allergies and guess what….? none of it will do a bit of good if he swallows a peanut. you can read until your heart is content and you can recite the symptoms forwards and backwards but if you swallow a peanut and cannot see the epinephrine auto injector to self inject a life saving fluid… you just might die. read that. but i am supposed to trust the staff and a bunch of other bad ass little kids to NOT give my son something that could kill him and he is supposed to be trained and understanding of food offers and KNOW in his little heart that even though he wants the food and would like the food that he should refuse the food because it could kill him??? heavy load for the thirty-seven year old mom of SuperBoy, but far too heavy for the cherub like and weightless wonder known as SuperBoy… who will be turning all of five years old next month.
yeah, speechless. four year old boys love their mamas. we are their suppliers. we provide sheets, blankets and pillows as forts for shelter, snacks for consumption, trash items for recycling into weapons and clean clothes so they can make dirty clothes. they love us because they devour the unconditional love and pampering provided by a mama. we love them because they are our little men. our monkeys. our buddies and our bubbas. they are our sons. for SuperBoy, i am his mama. he is my buddy, my bubba and my Poot McGroot. he’s my baby boy. seeing his face changes my whole world. he buckles me at the knees and wraps me around his fingers. he touches my hair and no one touches my hair. when i had him, i had no idea what to do with him… now i don’t know what to do without him. he rocks my world. daily.
i want the world for him. a nice pollution free allergen free environment with organic foods void of milk, wheat, soy, eggs, peanuts, walnuts and scallops. a world with a springy floor, safety net, covered outlets, no sharp corners and padded everything. where the harshest statement ever made is “good night”. a world built on trust and…. yeah, i know, stop dreaming and wishing. but you do understand don’t you? i just don’t know if my heart is strong enough to survive the years, situations and complications that lie ahead. i do know that i can’t hide him, in here with me, forever….it won’t be that much longer. just until he outgrows his dimples, ok….? pleeeeeeeease?
hello my faithful fans! it’s so nice to see you all. thank you for your continued support and interest.
today i would like to present to you an idea that hits very close to home: watching what you say. has your mouth ever gotten you in trouble? you ever overstepped your verbal boundaries? your mouth ever written a check your @$$ couldn’t cash? doesn’t it all feel like it goes against who you ARE? like you’re being changed or morphed into someone that is NOT you. today we are going to discuss those verbal boundaries, the rules of vulgarity and even some workplace do’s and don’ts.
in case we haven’t met before, i’m Tanisha. i say what’s on my mind. sometimes in a few choice words… other times, in thousands of words posts. i am a self-proclaimed and extremely guilty potty mouthed sailor. i enjoy talking and connecting with others — on multiple levels. i have a plethora of opinions, stories and jokes to help me do so. i am becoming more settled in my body and personality everyday and have come to the understanding that no matter how much i want to always be me and remain true to myself — there are times when I am not what’s needed. sometimes it’s better to just be, than to be me.
i recently participated in a very interesting personality assessment. i have an extroverted personality. i know it’s hard to believe, but yes really, it’s true. this was not news to me (or you). as much as i enjoy sharing and again, connecting with others, there have been more than enough situations where i could have toned it down. it’s hard to filter my thoughts without flinging words about. i think out loud. occasionally, this can be a hazard. you gotta know your limits and know when to say when. or when not to say when.
years ago i was a police dispatcher. i had a lot of fun at that job. i met some great people, made some great friends and shared some amazing experiences. as i walked into the dispatch center, on my first official night working, i realized in an instant what i had gotten myself into. there was a buzz about the room like a hive of bees. an array of sounds and noises from all directions flooded my ears and alerted every other sense in my body. i felt a slight tensing panic. phones ringing, verbal radio traffic, the pressing and releasing of the foot pedal, subtle conversation. hours later, as i fought sleep a coworker, melissa, came to chat with me. she was checking up on me and has done so ever since.
years later as i settled into the job and we shared laughs, tears, jokes and food we also shared workplace hijinks. one night as we were horsing around just as i pushed the foot pedal and began speaking to a police unit. please accept the vagueness of the radio traffic transcript and also cover the eyes of any nearby children:
<police officer> : four-adam-twelve
<me> : four-adam-twelve
<police officer> : please show me on scene, at this location, doing something or other
<me> : four-adam-twelve, i copy, on scene at that location, doing whatever
let me pause here. understand that melissa and i enjoyed messing with each other’s chairs. there were several types of chairs that reclined and tilted into a variety of positions to accommodate the many bodies of the many dispatchers for many hours at a time. in the wee hours of the morning, you would most likely find the graveyard dispatchers in a reclined and very relaxed position. the main lever allowing the chair to recline was wound pretty tight. hitting that button at the wrong time could literally eject you from the seat. well, you guessed it. just as i pushed the foot pedal for the radio transmission, melissa smacked that lever with her foot. my chair went from a forty degree recline to more straight up than would ever be comfortable. so you can imagine my surprise. surprise + potty mouth = shame.
<police officer> : four-adam-twelve
<me> : four-adam-twelve
<police officer> : please show me on scene, at this location, doing something or other
<me> : four-adam-twelve, i copy, on scene at that location, doing whatever >>SMACK! goes my chair<< fu¢ke®.
oh. em. gee. did that just happen? my affirmation of the officer’s radio traffic went out as:
four-adam-twelve, i copy, on scene at that location, doing whatever, fu¢ke®
melissa and i looked at each other and while she started to ask me “did that go out?” we both reached for the recorder. i hit the rewind button and much to my chagrin, it did go out. yes, my bad word bounced outta my mouth, across the microphone and out into the world… live and in living color. i instantly received dispatch instant messages from my police world. i had to call the watch commander and advise him of my bad deed in case he received a complaint from a citizen, a coworker, a city official or perhaps the f.c.c. (Federal Communications Commission). i. was. mortified.
still to follow was the instant message from the police officer that the horrible word was seemingly directed towards. her weren’t happy. i sent a blanket message to anyone that could receive it and explained the dynamics behind the horrible word. i didn’t live it down for several days. i still cringe when i replay it in my head. the potty mouth killed it. without that one word, it wouldn’t have been noticed. but, that’s not what happened. my habit of being carefree had just clashed with my need to be professional and ladylike. boooo.
i think that maturing is learning what your reaction to something is going to be and heading it off at the pass. making choices based on a realistic understanding of the long term affects and consequences. it is a feat to learn to not just let anything fall out of your mouth. being open, honest and forward has nothing to do with quick, vulgar or funny. the witty comeback is not the only comeback. perhaps it’s the fact that the mouth and the brain are so close and this allows no time for the thought to be filtered and censored before being spoken. it proves to be a sincere challenge requiring daily maintenance and monitoring. effort.
there have been countless words evoked and inspired by pain, verbalized and yelled out of angst that can never be unheard. words can do so many things. they can explain, explore, examine and they can also exact excruciating emotions. words can hurt more than any physical pain. they can also inspire, motivate, romance and entertain. the choice is yours… and mine.
a college professor once told me “talk ten percent less”. i would have never guessed it would be so difficult. i don’t think i’ve knocked two percent off, much less ten and it’s been a little more than three years that i’ve actually been making a conscious effort. i don’t know if my brain to mouth filter is broken or if it’s that innate desire to be me overriding the undeniable logic of just shutting up every now and again.
this proves especially true for the workplace. we are all hired for our capabilities and productivity. if we’re lucky, we are chosen for our personality and disposition. don’t let it go to your head though. they might like you, but they will not allow you to feel so privileged as to not obey the rules and basic conduct standards. test it. see what happens. maintaining a favorable position with your employer is of the utmost importance. they pay you. they make your life possible. do not disrespect them by proving ungrateful. you’ll be sorry and your position will be filled by someone else.
in that respect, you have to treat your workplace and your coworkers like preteens. like twelve year old kids that are impressionable and old enough to tell on you. i have just come to this realization. honestly. but within the parameters of your job description (loosely, people, be a team player), your physical work location and a reasonable work load, they can ask what they choose. they. pay. you. they give you money. respect them for that and do what is expected of you. outside of attendance, your word choice is paramount at work. be careful. watch what you say, how you say it and whom you say it to. it’s simple. it’s hard to do, but it’s simple. be conservative even if you’re not.
i am guilty of signing employment contracts, memo and the like without actually reading them. aren’t we all? no? just me?? hmm, oh well. almost all employers provide a detailed explanation of rules, regulations and procedures required legally and in the best interest of both parties. if you didn’t read the document or choose to ignore your employer’s request, you do yourself a disservice. the excuse of “look at so-and-so” is childish. when at work, worry about yourself. don’t make yourself subject to discipline because of someone else’s actions that you decided to accept responsibility for. will they accept financial responsibility for your obligations if a termination should ensue? yeah, i didn’t think so. cover your @$$.
in the course of daily work, should you be advised, warned, coached, counseled, briefed, memo’d, emailed, written or faxed anything about attitude, performance, appearance or PERFORMANCE — you need heed the warning. should you be reintroduced to any policy or procedure, you need heed the warning. don’t let your understanding come with a pink slip. if you’re ever in a meeting and something comes up and you have the thought “oh, i hope they’re not talking about me”, you need to act like they are. you need to leave that meeting and change your conduct accordingly. if you think it’s you, act like it really IS you.
from an overactive mouth to a potty mouth or an outside voice that’s inside, we must watch our words. we have to be careful not to put things out there that we can’t get back. some things can never be unheard. ever. use your words to inspire and encourage, not to berate or condemn. not to infuriate. words tend to boomerang and they sure pack a wallop on their way back at your head. do not sacrifice your livelihood to prove the point that you (and your fabulous personality) will not be stifled. that’s not a point you need to make.
where children are concerned, one must be almost overly cautious about what you let fall from your lips. children are curious, inquisitive and relentless. they are miniature detectives and professional peeping tom’s (not in a weird way, but in a quiet “i wanna see what you’re doing” way). they hear everything. during the twos, threes and fours they repeat what you say. be mindful of what you say when a child is within hearing range. not only will you provide them with the entirely wrong thing to say, they will choose the entirely wrong time to say it. think of them as the ultimate auto-correct-failure. you will spend a lifetime trying to undo the damage that can be done.
we are all role models. whether we want to be or not. whether we choose to be or not. whether we are worthy or not. children latch on and look up to the adults that are around them. they don’t have to know you, care about you or love you. if you are in their world, they are receiving from you — whatever you are putting out. make sure, MAKE SURE, that what you are sharing is appropriate. it’s not just the words they absorb. they gather context, respect and their version of like and love from the things that we share with them… and how we share with them. if you can’t handle that responsibility, you’re kinda just plain ole $h!t outta luck. watch your mouth or don’t be around any kids. ever.
if anyone is guilty of embarrassing themselves because they didn’t filter and censor before speaking, it’s me. so, i speak from experience and humility. think before you speak. choose words that convey your thoughts and feelings, but just know that your thoughts and feelings might not be needed — all the time. there’s a time to be you, to be me and then there are times to just be. don’t get them confused. save your profanity infused self loathing opinions and obnoxious jokes for your blog, not your debut at work or in front of the kids. you will benefit from this more than anyone else.
Tanisha Ware
if you don’t plan your life, life will plan it for you. and life takes no requests. two steps forward and one step back is STILL one forward. whatever it is… do it today, because so far, tomorrow is just a hope.
while i AM an optimistic person, i am still able to see and feel the reality in most situations. I wouldn’t say that i’m more positive or negative (although, i’m sure my family and friends would have a much easier time discerning which they considered me to be). in fact, i have quoted myself, more than once as being a “realist”. i am neither too sunny, nor too depressing. i won’t admit to being too agreeable or too disagreeable. trust me, i have my moments.
this morning as i cruised about the last minute christmas eve shoppers, not really paying attention to anything, i was brought to those end of the year thoughts:
you know those thoughts, right? resolutions. New Year’s Resolution. The Resolutions of all resolutions. the sometimes private, occasionally public, sporadic yet carefully planned irregular normal things that you promise to yourself and anyone who can hear you to live a better life. this spontaneous burst of zen and chi wrapped up with spunk, zest and mojo to cover the tinge of sarcastic experienced “yeaaaaah right” that’s already oozing from your thoughts about said “Resolutions”.
i know it seems extremely negative and one sided, but i have to say: resolutions are for the birds. why wait? why january first? why the beginning of the year? does the date determine the amount of effort, value or importance over the change that is being made? or is it just a way to find a reason to not do it? why do we postpone our joy? everyday without a job is a day without a job. why would you delay employment another day? the sooner you get the job, the sooner you get everything that comes with it! and while some of what comes can be bad, most of what will come will be good. real good.
if the motivation behind a New Year’s Resolution is nothing but pure of heart, good will and true intention… why do we vow to do it later? tell me how that makes sense. perhaps you can tell that i haven’t made a resolution in a while? i haven’t. i have only vowed to be a better me. i make no other promises. not to me, not to my son, my family or friends. not to my employer, my coworkers or the maniacal Resolution Fairies in the sky. just… “be a better me”. what’s wrong with that? it’s realistic. it’s obtainable. it’s measurable. but by whom? who determines if my Resolution completion is satisfactory or not? only i. just me.
and there in lies the key. a Resolution, composed and held accountable by only it’s maker is nothing more than a thought. a cerebral to-do list. but a Resolution! a Resolution; spoken aloud, written down or taken notice of is a promise. we “resolve”. according to Merriam-Webster.com we will “deal with successfully”. in the course of my research i asked my aunt and number one test subject collaborator if she made Resolutions and her response was almost an exact quote from the disclaimer presented on wikipedia (yes, i know it’s not the most reliable source, however, it is a consensus of public opinion which is the extent of research that i need for my points) stating:
they must have known that my next question was “is this a cultural phenomenon”? the above mentioned list Judaism and Christianity as both having a similar concept, but in fact their own statement shows that the religious aspect requires that we reflect on wrongdoings or such and seek forgiveness and atonement. no, that is not the same as planning for a prosperous and productive year.
my interpretation is this: resolutions are just part of the game. we indulge for months and months in a row. from the fourth of july through christmas, we have some sort of celebration almost every month. and who, WHO, celebrates without food? from barbecues and cookouts in the summer through formal family dinners served and shared at thanksgiving and christmas, we are eating. eating, eating, eating. who would have guessed right? in a country rampant with eating disorders, diabetes and heart disease… we eat and eat and eat and we top it all with an alcohol soaked celebration to ring in the new year and a whole new bout of guilt, side effects and repercussions. if you ask me, Resolutions are our punishment for being indulgent and gluttonous.after months of summer fun, summer food and holiday happiness rolled up and covered with whipped cream we’re forced out of our comfort zone, our comfortable pants and into the idea of buying a bigger size! hell nooooooooOo. something must be done. we must VOW to be good. to eat good, be good, treat others good and good and good and more good.
nothing is free. that’s why i don’t resolve. i am a work in progress. nothing about me, my physical person, mental aptitude or emotional stability is actually stable. all things human are also kinetic. they are constantly in motion, changing, adhering and adapting to their environment. this is why we are so amazing. and this, my friends is why i don’t resolve. i refuse to put a ceiling, glass or otherwise, over myself. you can ask anyone, i make no promises. i do not resolve. what will come will come and i will deal accordingly. i will not wait for monday. i will not wait for the first of the month nor the beginning of the year. action deserves reaction. no, action REQUIRES reaction. don’t wait. act. react.
drum roll please!
and now.. for the part you’ve all been waiting for. the part that tells about the people, the parties and about the pool… the part that details the events, the activities and the food. i present to you… the cruuuuuise.
did ya like that? i tried to present it to you as a gift. this experience that i am about to share with you was a gift to me. uh huh. it’s true. my aunt has been traveling with Blue World Travel and their Festival at Sea for the past five years. she has tried to get me to go with her, for at least four of those five years. each time i denied. sometimes due to finances, sometimes due to childcare, but mostly because i was nervous to cruise. flat out scared.
“… just floating out there in the ocean? i dunno.”
“it’s not like that, you’re so busy doing other things that you won’t even notice.”
“i dunno. it sounds scary.”
“you would have so much fun. i know that once we got on the boat, i wouldn’t see you anymore… except maybe to change your clothes.”
“i doubt that.”
this was the conversation between she and i for years. years. last year i made the decision to join her. knowing that my last vacation was a farce and that i needed to get away for a while, i welcomed the excitement of knowing there was a “vay-kay-shun” on the horizon. during the year that we had to prepare and ponder, a lots of things happened in a lot of different areas. at one point, i was uncertain if i still wanted to go. we went back and forth a bit over whether to take my four-year-old. for a little while, he was included in our plans. then we decided that perhaps he should stay at home. he stayed home.
during that year, my aunt continued to tell me to buy clothing and other vacation stuffs over time so that i wouldn’t be bogged down at the end. somewhere along the way, i lost my job and buying things became the least of my worries. my very generous aunt extended this gift to me, as well. as she shopped for shoes and dresses, i did the same. i was very reluctant. i didn’t want to spend her hard-earned money more than i had to and i felt that she was dramatizing the desire to have so much on hand. i was wrong. for a little while i felt that i had taken too much clothes, shoes and makeup. but now i can see that without having taken what i took, i wouldn’t have felt as comfortable as i felt. i like having options.
there was also a whole discussion on the number of swimsuits needed for a seven-day cruise. she told me i would want five or six or seven. say whaaat? ummm, no. i don’t think that’s necessary. i resisted that idea to the hilt!
“what? seven swimsuits? that’s ridiculous.”
“i’m serious. you’re going to wish you had them when you get there.”
“i haven’t had seven swimsuits in seven years, why would i want seven swimsuits for a week-long vacation?”
“you should trust me on this.”
“i dunno. that just sounds crazy.”
*sigh* again, i was wrong. i think i took five, but i actually used three the most (because they were of the same shape and design and i could stick to the same set of tan lines). however, i wish that i had two for everyday. they were so much fun. i enjoyed the ultimate amount of time in the sun. more than my skin could handle. when i left California, i was a nice even paper sack tan. upon return i was a smooth burnt buttermilk biscuit brown. no lie. my nose peeled twice on the boat and i had to stop wearing foundation because it didn’t match my skin. still doesn’t– at all.
ok. so let’s get on with it. the cruise, the flights, the hotel, the clothes, the haircut and the pedicure were all courtesy of my aunt. she treated me to everything. including pre and post-cruise meals and drinks as well as treats, snacks and keepsakes. she is unlike any other person in my life. she gave me the best gift i could have ever asked for. a cruise vacation after a ten-year vacation hiatus. to that i say:
“thank you, Danise, for your love, your friendship and your gift. you were right about not seeing me other than to change clothes and the number of swimsuits i should have taken. i needed this vacation so much and i don’t know how to thank you enough for asking me to go with you one more time, or for handling all of the arrangements and for keeping me and SuperBoy safe during this time (and all other times). your love knows no limits. i thank God, in the Heavens above, for you and wish you nothing but the best in everything that you do. i am forever indebted and will never forget your care, concern and kindness. I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH.”
ok. mushy stuff aside, let’s get on with this cruise! we left on a red-eye flight with two layovers getting us to Miami (push-off point) the next morning. after a couple of slight delays, we made it in about lunch time. there were two days of pre-cruise party fun to be had. we got in, got settled and stared out our window for at least an hour (even the rusted roof was a welcome sight):
looking at Miami from our hotel room. cruise countdown: 48 hours.
we soon met up with Melinda and Makeni, completing our quartet. with sunglasses on and little purses in hand, we were on our way to dinner.
me, Danise (my aunt), Melinda and Makeni ... ready to start our vacation with a meal together.
we caught a taxi to Bayshore Village and ate at Bubba Gump’s Shrimp Co. them’s some good eats! they were served to us by Lenin (he was so nice, but the air conditioning in the kitchen and in our part of the restaurant was busted. so the poor guy sweat just bringing us drinks and napkins. i hated to ask him for anything additional knowing that he had to go into the scorching kitchen to get it):
Melinda, Lenin and Makeni
Danise, Lenin and I
we followed up dinner with a walking tour of the village area. it was crowded. there were lots of people, lots of shopping, eating and entertaining. there was a “concert in the park” type event going on and we stopped for a moment and enjoyed the music:
it's not the best picture but you get the idea. we were seated on concrete amphitheater type seats. people were dancing about and clapping along to the music.
i found a store selling Monster energy. aaaaah. sweet glowing amped-up goodness in a can. melinda and makeni found ten-minute chair massages. when we left, we actually got into a verbal argument with a crappy cab driver who wanted to blatantly over-charge us. he was rude and bordering disrespectful. but we didn’t let him steal our shine. we battled him back with our words and he eventually surrendered to our undeniable logic and walked away. hmph. chump.
upon returning to the hotel, we found a lobby full of fellow cruisin’ party people. it was apparent that my vacation was well under way. two of our four retired for the evening. Makeni and i stayed afloat in the lobby making friends, playing cards and getting to know some of our fellow cruisers. we were kicked out of the lobby at around 4 o’clock in the morning so they could clean and tidy up.
me. sportin' Wild Bill's pterodactyl feet slippers (he actually challenged me on the spelling of pterodactyl and was shocked when i busted out my phone and looked up the spelling right then and there. hmph).
i was up before i ever laid down. up dressed and ready to go. we decided to spend some time out and about and we started with lunch:
lunch on South Beach...where i had my first and my best Mojito. cruise countdown: 24 hours
our lunch was followed by some actual factual time on South Beach, in Miami. what a hot spot. (pssst. i saw some topless sunbathers there. say whaaat? yes. fa real.) the humidity in Florida has got to be somewhere near the same as the Amazon rainforest. i have never been in such a humid environment. ever. i honestly don’t know how people can live in this area. seriously. it was that bad.
after swimming in the beautiful water, in my dress-- i melted.
we left the beach, walked around the area and did a little shopping. i think we spent the most time in the Walgreens because of the outright air-conditioned environment. eventually i stopped going into the stores because it was so nice and there and so miserable outside.. i couldn’t stand the bi-polar-ness of it and just stayed outside awaiting three women shoppers. whew.
we returned to the hotel and naturally we went swimming:
me, Makeni, Danise (my aunt) and Melinda: pre-cruise party poolside fun. this lovely photo is courtesy of Jeffrey Walker.
we agreed to retire to our rooms respectively and get ready for “the Party”. the pre-cruise party. cash bar, finger foods and at least half of the anticipated cruisers. a nice way to meet more people before setting off to sea. this is where the division came in our group. some people get ready and some people just saaay they are getting ready. i was part of the former group. i was done and out the door and didn’t see the other girls for at least thirty minutes.
ready! and touring the scene with Wild Bill. (see there? hardly a noticeable tan.)
and that does it on pre-cruise party photos. hahahah. i made many acquaintances. shared many laughs and several drinks. i danced. i posed. i spent the majority of the wee-morning hours outside by the pool.
the beautiful pool, first thing in the morning, ready and waiting for the day's antics to begin.
that’s where i met my girl Nikki. it was her birthday and she treated herself to this lovely vacation. she was dancing to her own beat and i just jumped right in. we met r’here but we hung TIGHT throughout the trip. here we are days later, closer in friendship, sharing drinks and livin’ it up at the fantastic swim-up bar at the phenomenal Margaritaville on Grand Turk Island:
aka: SugarPie and BabyCakes (and a whole buncha other folk), kickin' it hard at the 'Ville
we’ll talk more about Margaritaville later. after the pre-cruise party, there was no time to sleep. i had stayed out until dawn. Nikki retired for the evening to get a little rest and get her luggage cruise ready. my luggage was ready, my “get on the boat” clothes were ready and i was anxious. i used my nervous energy to take a run. huh? yes, i’m serious. an “i’ve been out all night, but still can’t go to sleep, might not ever be back in Miami at dawn” cleansing morning run. here is the picture i stopped and took:
Miami at dawn... my cruise awaits, i better turn around...
upon returning, i walked a mile in the hotel gym (yup, i did that too), swam some laps in that lovely pool (i know, right? where am i getting the energy?) and eventually got ready to go. i laid down for maybe an hour and for some strange reason my eyes closed up tight. hmmm.. go figure. before we actually left the hotel, i called home to talk to my son and the sitter. they were both doing well. my little man told me “love you mommy”. *sniff*
the next two hours went something like this: out of hotel, on the shuttle, off the shuttle, through customs, through cruise check-in, through cruise doors, photoed and then photoed, onto the boat, into the room, to Makeni’s room, to Melinda’s room, up and out to the lido deck for food, and then a break to have an emergency meeting at our “unlikely” but potential emergency meeting stations. then back out for some much required, highly anticipated fooooooooood.
lido deck, push off, time to get this party started... and the countdown is OVER! cruise INITIATED.
the horn blew, the boat pushed off and we were well on our way. that’s the electric slide contest above. the first of many dance contests, line dances and group dances. it was fun. there was a “Freeze” factor added in and that made it all the better. the three girls below (from left to right: striped dress, yellow strapless and denim shorts) were like mannequins! mannequins i tell you!:
the freeze champions! if you ask me.
and that my friend, set the tone for the next six days on this wonderful boat. i met so many great people, made new friends, added at least a dozen or so folks to my facebook and got tagged in tooooo many pictures. but most of all, i had a great time. honestly– one of the best times ever. there was music, dancing, eating, laughing, drinking, swimming, and lots of smiling. and not necessarily in that order.
now, i’ve set the scene for you because i wanted you to feel the excitement and know that fun was around every single corner. i can’t walk you through every hour of every day, so i will hit you with the big stuff.
me. poolside. if you're looking for me, you haven't been in, near or around the pool.
i spent the first three days, right here. everything else i did, excluding the formal dinner, the scheduled entertainment or hanging out at the “club” was done very near here.
the Festival at Sea is planned. there are activities planned for the majority of everyday. and that’s just on the boat. there are plenty of things to do when you go ashore, if you go ashore. they had exercise classes, prayer meetings, speed dating, dance contests, line dancing, dance classes, bingo, crafts and more. each night had a theme and the appropriate dress was requested for dinner. it was a lot of fun. the first night was relaxed and then! the next night! Sunday night was the Cool White Night Party as well as Mardi Gras.
Harold, Danise, Makeni, Melinda and Ron... i'm not in it, 'cause i took it.
Harold and I on Cool White Night
the Girls: Makeni, my aunt Danise and Melinda
and here’s everyone else (please forgive the blurry photos. i had not taken many “night” shots prior to the cruise. as well, up on deck and in the area above the deck it can be windy. just as one hits the “snap” button a gust of wind will help you “snap” a different shot completely):
Cool White Night Deck Party
... and the line dancing begins...
probably fifteen hundred people, dressed in white from head-to-toe
the next day i was poolside (see the poolside photo above) and that night, Monday night, we were entertained by the one and only Patti La Belle:
Hank Sr. screamed out from the crowd: "Patti! I love youuu!"
Patti was so gracious. she wasn’t feeling well and apologized throughout the show. she said that seasickness gave her indigestion.
“makes me feel like i have to burp, but i don’t.”
when she first came out on stage she was wearing some grey patent leather Christian Louboutins. nice. she talked to us like we were her friends. she sang a song and then she kicked those shoes off in Patti LaBelle style! (and naturally, she asked for her RedBottoms back).
out of nowhere (i didn’t know him then) Hank Sr. yells out that he loves her.
Hank: I love you Patti.
Patti: huh? say what, babe? what’d you say?
Hank: I love you!
Patti: oh, you love me? i love you too boo. are you married?
Hank: NO!
Patti: no? uh oh. c’mere, lemme see you.
Hank came out into the light and after direct instruction from Patti to “let the man go”, security let him up on stage. he was beaming and i was almost blinded. she asked him whom he was on the cruise with and he explained that it was a graduation gift to his son, Hank Jr. sweet, right? she called Hank Jr. onto the stage. she hugged them both and posed for a photo opportunity. before they left the stage Hank Sr. kicked his shoes off. a little less gracefully, but with just as much drama. good times.
it was a great concert. she sang my favorite Patti songs. sadly, though, she really wasn’t feeling well and had to excuse herself from the stage more than once. if she wouldn’t have told me, i wouldn’t have known. she almost brought me to tears when she sang “Somebody Loves You”. such memories attached to that song.
i apologize for the month long hiatus between part two and part three. my world at home has taken a turn for the better and left me with less time to share my thoughts. i came home to a job offer, followed by pre-employment testing, physicals and examinations. then i woke up to a toothache! total bummer. shortly thereafter i actually started working without any particular mode of transportation (i carpooled, borrowed and prayed for a ride) and just recently signed my name on the dotted line to call a little car: my own. with that said, i have to pick up where i left off and that has all become a little fuzzy over time. it’s a good thing we kept every scrap of paper and took so many photos to help me replace my shoddy memories with real ones. SO! let’s move forward, shall we?
next on the list! “Charlie, last name: Wilson.” do you know who that is? i hope so, but if not, i’ll tell you: he was the lead singer of the Gap Band (and i know you know who the Gap Band is). we were up in the rafters for Patti, but we were ground level for Charlie. and boooooy was that a show!! he really really put it on. and! and! he wasn’t feeling well either. he confessed that he had food poisoning and that he wasn’t up to par, but if you ask me, even his not-up-to-par was phenomenal.
Charlie! sharing stories of his personal battles including: drug and alcohol abuse and prostate cancer. he was happier to share that he has been sober for seventeen years.
after the show, i wandered about looking for nikki. i perused the crowds this way and that and made my way up to the lido deck to check out what the midnight buffet had in store. nothing interesting… to me anyway. as i continued on my way, i was verbally accosted by a group of men (just kidding, they asked me if i was lost because i was wandering). i sat down and low and behold it was a fair share of the gentlemen that i had just seen on stage:
Aubrey on the left, Bruce on the right
Aubrey made me laugh out loud, really loud, with his editorial commenting. he bought me a mojito and told me i was hilarious.
Bruce seems extremely serious, but he’s actually very sweet. i wouldn’t wanna cross that line though, i’m sure his serious side is his well paid side. 😀
(pssst~ i can't remember his name) playin' the bass
mr. man on the bass was busy. maybe he wasn’t busy, but his eyes sure were. like a kid in a candy store.
me on the left, and the sweetest dancin' girl on the right
and that sweetheart of a backup dancer was just so pleasant. she complimented my famous foam flower, shared her workout routine, told me not to keep the boys up too late and then flashed her pearly whites for my mojito-driven photo session. 😀
good times.
thus far i haven’t mentioned Jon Saxx & Endless Possibilities. they were onboard entertainment also. Jon Saxx is a phenomenal saxophone player and his band is B-A-D! they were on deck, in the Atrium and they also entertained at the Gospel Breakfast. i enjoyed watching him make connections with his audience as he serenaded everyone in the crowd — personally. this is a photo of him on the last day we were on the ship, but he was there the whole time and i enjoyed his sound and the passion that he instilled in every note he played.
serenading the scene with his saxxophone..
there were also two comedians. aj jamal and jay lamont. both guys are truly hilarious. i met aj jamal poolside and jay lamont mingled with me and the CW boys (that’s, uhhh, Charlie Wilson band fellas). i would be a liar if i said that i hadn’t seen them both a million times on the television, but being side by side and actually having conversation was far more entertaining. i got a photo-op with aj jamal:
me and aj jamal
but my opportunity to showcase a photo with jay lamont was sabotaged by a dead cell battery. boooo. anyway! i had a great time mingling with the entertainment, and i think they had a good time hangin’ out with me. i hope they did anyway.
well, my faithful darlings, i’m going to end this extremely long post here. i will return much sooner than before and i promise to tell you more about the food and the people i met. until then… stay sweet!
tomorrow i will be going on vacation. this will be my first notable vacation in many years. i’ve had some weekend getaways and a few sleepovers with the bestie and the babies, but that’s nothing in comparison to what is planned for my very near future. and while i am very excited, anxious and extremely “ready” for this vacation, i am saddened, as well as heartbroken to be leaving my main man, my sidekick, my number one buddy, my son at home. he will be well taken care of and perfectly comfortable at our home with his toys and his bed. however, i am not so certain that i will be the same.
so, enough with the suspense already, huh? ok. i’ll tell you. due to the overwhelming generosity of my aunt, she and i are going on a cruise. yup, a cruise. we are going to the bahamas, st. thomas, puerto rico and grand turk. i’ve never been on one, have you? i hear they are the bees knees and not to be underestimated. from what i understand it’s a floating party with numerous types of parties and options aboard. sounds exciting right? oh! and the food. i heard that cruise food is food to die for. that it’s just never-ending and mostly delicious (i say mostly, because someone somewhere doesn’t like something– usually). if it’s all so good, why do i feel so bad?
is it because we wanted and planned to take my son? and then later after much deliberation we decided that perhaps we should not? or is it because i’m leaving him for the first time for more than two nights since the day he was born? that seems more like it to me. my son often spends the night with his dad but calls for me rather crankily when he gets hungry or tired. we all love mom’s cooking, don’t we? i know i do. and of course, mamas bathe us and comfort us just before it’s time to sleep. no matter how much complaining he does, his time with his dad is always a great time.
so, again, why do i feel so bad? i have the normal traveling woes of not getting where i need to be on time, lost luggage and forgotten reservations. i have the normal concerns of anyone who is traveling with toiletry items (because of TSA), shoes that require tying and untying (because of TSA) as well as having to purchase my own in-flight food (because of TSA). i’ll remember to remove my eyebrow grooming utensils including tweezers and tiny sharp scissors, so that i don’t get held up and questioned (because of TSA). i’ll also be certain to remove that handcuff key from the bottom of my purse (because of TSA).
everything is taken care of. it’s all been paid for and reserved. our reservations for flights, hotels and cruise ships have been acknowledged and confirmed. the bills are taken care of, the refrigerator is taken care of and the house is taken care of. even my son, is taken care of, for twenty-four hours for all of the days that we will be gone. but… something keeps nagging at me. something is keeping me unexcited when i should be over-excited. i need to shake that feeling. i need it to be gone. if i’m bummed, i will undoubtedly bum someone else out and that’s just a bummer. boooooooo!
ok! so, with that said, i will do as i have been instructed by close friends to do a few things to remedy the homesickness that will fervently consume my son and i. first, i will leave a picture of me with him, that he can hold and keep close. you should know that i’ve already done the same, i think i packed pictures of him FIRST. second, i will make a calendar for him showing the days that we are gone with a photo of the person who will be caring for him that day. next, i will leave my favorite t-shirt behind so that he can sleep in it and feel juuuuuuuuuust a little bit closer to me. i will try to call him every night around bed time to let him know that i am thinking of him and wishing him sweet dreams. and last on my list is to take one of his blankets with me (and i plan on hijacking one of his small trains too) so that i can feel close to him when i want to.
*sigh* ok. i think these things will help. i think. i hope so because i really need to shake this before i get on a plane to the other side of the country and then on a boat for a whole week. i’m sure that tomorrow will bring a renewed feeling of excitement and joy as i finish packing, check items off my checklist and get the show on the road. in the meantime, i’m going to sit and watch him play and smile and drink in as much as i can. drunk on my preschooler’s love is how i wanna be so that the “i left him” hangover doesn’t set in until the plane has taxied off the runway and is into the air where my only options to protest are to jump or jump.
have you ever left your kid(s) for more than a couple of nights? how did you handle that? how did he/she/they handle it? was it bearable? did you have a hard time sleeping? were you too worried to have a good time? talk to me, darlings, i’m about to crumble and i’ve run out of things to blame on the TSA.
aww. back when he was six months old and teething.
just last weekend, he's a little over four years old and having fun at the Orange County Fair.
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