A PHOTOGRAPHER'S NIGHTMARE

Saturday was clear, but oh, so cold. I looked out across the ice and did not feel like walking half way across the lake to where I would take pictures. I could see people slipping and sliding while they worked to set up the Radar Run starting line. Ever since that fall I took a few years ago, I am petrified of falling.

I pulled my hoodie over my head and tied my hat over that. I find people are not quick to help those who are not young, skinny, and pretty but I finally took the courage to ask one of the guys to take me out on his ATV. He asked someone else to do and after trouble with the machine, that one asked a third.

The spot chosen was on sheer wind polished ice. There wasn't any way I could move around without falling. I was offered the use of the machine. He said he didn't need it and after showing me the controls, went on his way. Oooh, my first time driving an ATV with a quad track. Very cool!

I positioned the machine so I could get a good view of the racers. The wind was fierce and coming straight at me. One of the cones blew down the track and debris would periodically come whipping across the ice. I wondered how long I could stay out there when one of the guys came driving up in a SUV.

"Would you rather sit in here?" I was hesitant because of visibility, but with that wind, I'd be a fool to say no. Of course I took him up on his offer. I moved the ATV and he backed in. We swapped vehicles. I let the engine run a few minutes to get warm and put the window down far enough that I could stick the camera out.

There was some time before contestants came to the line. I wished I'd brought my flute. I had a radio and could hear others calling to each other. Was I the only one alone? That realization made me feel like an outsider.

Finally, though, they were ready. "This one wants a picture," would be called down to me but I ended up taking photos of everyone. After an hour, someone came out for the photo card and I began using the other camera. Later he brought me a burger and fries and I wolfed those down hardly tasting them. The warmth felt good.

I sat by myself for three hours snapping picture after picture of the same people making multiple runs. There were times when the wind would blow chips of ice through the open window. The SUV would shake. I was very glad that I was not standing outside. Finally the second photographer came to take over and she opted to stand on the other side of the track and did not want to sit in the vehicle. I called it quits and drove off the lake.

The pictures were downloaded onto a laptop and a slide show set up. I was leery as I like to crop and edit the pictures to get the best of the scenes, but we also wanted to show people with hopes they'd want to purchase copies. I left when that was set up and headed home.

Yesterday I downloaded the pictures on my computer. Oh no! How horrible! And to think this was set up as a slide show for people to see? I am soooo embarrassed! I began the tedious task of cropping. Yes, this made the photos much better, but I am still not happy. I have to consider, though, that there are crowds at these kinds of events and it's near impossible to get pictures without something in the background. Still, I should have known better.

The worst is knowing that people saw bad photography. This isn't anything like I normally do. I can blame the cold and the wind. If I had felt safe to move around on the ice, I could have chosen a better spot. Still, these are no excuses. I knew which side of the track I had wanted to be on and they had said I could move, but I stayed at the first spot. I let the cold, ice, and wind disrupt my focus and now I pay for it. Yes, I am embarrassed and ashamed... but I'll get over it.

I can only hope that I can recoup some of my integrity with the edited photos posted to the LSSC website.

The wind howls and rattles the screens making viscious sounds like angry wolves trying to get in. The noise dies and I wait as it creeps around the house searching for another way to get to me. I pull my wrap tighter. In the moments of silence, the crows and blue jays fill the void with their raucous calls. I need to go out and rescue the fallen bird feeders but I choose to sit here in the warmth.

Today I take Ma to the urologist. I hope they take that catheter out--- so does she, although she has loved having people wait on her. She doesn't like it when I try to get her up and moving around. She called Mags, her twin sister, yesterday and Mags was trying to talk her into moving into the nursing home so they could be together and "have fun." Mags was having a good day, alert and pain free.

My mind is kind of quiet this morning. I have Tai Chi in a little while so I need to keep an eye on the time. I cannot get involved in any projects, though there's still lots to be done. I need to get back to making some notecards as I do sell quite a few of those. Somehow I still can't wrap my mind around how to actually promote them, group them, advertise them.

One thing I did accomplish yesterday was framing two more drawings. I had received my other order, but I still seem to be missing the mat for the Milkweed Pods. I don't know why I'm not getting that one done! I have measured it numerous times. Hey, at least I have two more pictures ready to go up on the wall.

Got a different frame with this latest group and I'll have to see which I like better. I also received the replacements for the items that were damaged and will have to work with those. I'm really pleased with how they look when hung and can't wait to get the remainder of the original drawings on the wall. Then I can start new drawings.

This has given me time to consider the technique of the originals. I definitely like the smaller drawings better. That might be because I tend to have more open space in the larger--- the ones that fit into a 16 X 20 frame. My style isn't doing a lot of small detail, but in making an illusion of detail which really shows in the drawings which fit into 11 X 14 frames.

One of the things that I find very interesting is that I can make multiple drawings from looking at one photograph and each will look different although the place can still be recognized. I'd like to keep working a bit more with that concept, yet there are so many more drawings to do using other pictures. I'm even considering doing a scene and adding a snowmobile to it and donating the drawing to the local snowmobile club. I want to do one of those for my brother for Christmas next year (meant to this past year, but never got around to it.)

Hey, maybe I could even do consignments. I could lay out a few different backgrounds and people could choose which one to have their snowmobiler drawn on. Because it's a charcoal drawing, it wouldn't be a portrait per se because there would be a shadow image and no real details of the person making the drawings generic... kind of. Hmmm, still thinking this out.

Well, I'm off to other things. Wish Ma and I luck today. She's been feeling really good the past two days except for having that catheter. Let's hope she gets a clean bill of health.

It's raining and the snow is melting. The distant trees are shrouded in fog and creep into my senses like an eerie apparition. This is just a tease before another cold front steps in. Yesterday I went outside in my barefeet to feed the birds. I've a lot to do today so have to keep a close watch on the time. Have to be out of the house by 8:15; chiropractor, then shopping. I don't like shopping.

The crows are hollering. I have nothing to give them this morning. They are funny. I love how they look so regal and will sit side by side in the tree and kiss each other.

I've been playing around with Facebook. Not quite sure what's going on with it. I did manage to talk to my granddaughter in Wichita Kansas and wish her a happy birthday. Facebook kind of seems like a kid thing, but I do see that there are older people, too. Well, if nothing, I can be in contact with my Kansas Kids. Yea!

Working on snowmobile stuff. I'm not much into riding, but I do enjoy the meetings and taking notes. I am also now doing the club newsletter and will write articles for the state rag, Sno-Traveler. It's an interesting experience because they talk about trails and I have no idea where those trails are, they mention people I've not met, and go on about equipment using terms with which I am unfamiliar. Still, I like it and my writing skills are something that I can offer, such as they are.

I've not been able to accomplish much these past mornings. The hours are too few and once I go downstairs and Ma is up, I cannot seem to get my butt back up here to work. It's like I have this idea in my head that I cannot do any work after noon time and will try to schedule everything for morning--- classes, appointments, shopping--- plus I try to fit in my writing and art work.

Hmmm, I sense an issue here... or is it just laziness. I don't like the term "lazy." My mother called me that all time while I was growing up. Am I REALLY lazy or do I simply choose what I want to do? I choose to write over cleaning house. I choose to sit and play games with her over cleaning house. Well, I could go on saying many things I choose to do over cleaning. Yet, I do get things clean from time to time.

I have to write, there's no doubt about that, just like I periodically have to pick up paint brushes or charcoal sticks. I will sit and play games with Ma because there isn't anything else she'd rather do--- except lie in bed. I put together meals. I do dishes and clean the counters. Gosh, I don't know what I'd do if I had a REAL job and had to leave the house every day.

I am very lucky and say my gratitude prayers every day. I like my life. Oh, there are other things that I'd like to do... and I could do them if I so chose. Right now, however, my goals are to get the LSSC writings organized and saved off the hard drive. I want to keep up with this blog and work a little more with the Facebook (if I can figure out what it really is worth.) Plus, I need to better design my website and links to be more user friendly. I just had it re-done and I think it is too wordy. I need to do something with all my photographs. AND I have to figure out how to pull this together to bring in some income.

My goal is to share what I do and who I am; to open up conversation and dialogue with others who share similar interests. I believe that if I keep working towards this goal and talking about it, it will happen.

DEADLINES

Once more I have waited til the last minute to write an article after saying again that I would not. I am putting it off further, by writing here first. Then again, I have til tomorrow. Why is it that I cannot get things done in a timely manner? I'm the same way with paying bills. If I had all the money I've paid out in late fees, I would be very well off. If I ever sent a birthday card out on time I think the recipient would faint.

So what is it about timing that puts me off? I easily find other things to do. I work on many projects simultaneously bouncing from this to that like a butterfly going from flower to flower. I am easily distracted... and I kind of like being this way.

What do I mean by liking to be this way? It's that I find many things interesting. How can I narrow my focus when there's so much beauty around me? Even as I write here, my eyes keep straying to the window where there are blue jays, chickadees, and crows flying by. I hear a song and I am looking to see what bird is starting his mating call. The sky turns pink and blue and the sun peeks over the tops of the trees while the light reflects on the ice in the road.

I suppose this lack of focus is why my house is seldom clean. I'll start working and get caught up somewhere else. If I take an object downstairs, I'll end up doing something while there or I'll pick up a book or an interesting piece that I found and next thing I know, an hour or so has passed and I've not accomplished what I set out to do.

I have learned not to be angry at myself for these digressions. I want to enjoy life and if I am distracted by the beauty around me, then so be it. I find beauty in many things; from birds, flowers, bits and pieces that I find, words, colors, textures, and patterns. My sacred name is Crying Heart because of how I see this beauty. I want others to notice, too. I want everyone to pay attention to this gorgeous land on which we live.

What are deadlines when there is much joy to be had by taking the time to pay attention; by allowing the soul to breathe, see, touch, listen, and taste. Yes, I made the commitment to writing this article, but I refuse to let the pressure put me in a box with the lid on tight. I'll do my writing with an open heart and when I am able to get the article in on time, then hurray and those times I miss the mark, oops, sorry. No hard regrets. I shall enjoy life as much as I can. Oooh, Yea ya.

WRITING DIALOGUE: FORMAL VS SLANG

Our writing group had a discussion the other day regarding dialogue. In writing a children's story, one woman was told that her dialogue was too formal, that children would not talk like that. We gave some ideas on what a child would say. She brought up the fact that if we do not use proper language when writing, how will a child learn? That's a good question.

It was also mentioned how people have different accents and will use odd idioms from other parts of the country. That reminded me of the time one of the members used the term, "Jeezum crow" in one of her stories and someone else had never heard of it. We had used that line a lot as kids and I hadn't heard it in years. It brought back memories and the feeling of having lived a very narrow life.

Personally, I like some slang when I'm reading because it helps me to get into the characters. You can feel the culture coming through when the writing is able to reflect how that person would be speaking and acting. I find it very interesting to notice the differences. That, in itself, can be a learning experience as we can see how people from other countries will interpret our language and even other English speaking places might make a different pronunciation.

As for teaching children, as long as they are having grammar lessons, they will be learning proper English... 'course they'll might not ever use it, ha ha. A good teacher may even point out the differences by demonstrating lines from a book and comparing them to proper sentence structure.

Story writing is different from formal writing. You probably wouldn't use slang phrases when writing a thesis, for instance. Dialogue, however, might be written along the lines of "I'm gonna go ta the store and git some bread" instead of "I am going to the store to get some bread." The letter g is often dropped off words when speaking... doin', bein', sleepin', walkin'... you get the picture. Of course, it depends on the character, where he is from, etc.

Myself, I go back and forth. The newsletter articles and some of my other writings tend to be more formal whereas my poetry and journaling may sometimes slip into more of how I would actually be speaking. One story I am working on has characters that do speak in more correct terms. There is something, too, about how I hear the words in my head before I write them on the page.

I have to admit, I've been slow in coming into using slang. I used to pride myself on proper grammar, but I have to say, that as time goes on, I tend to forget. My speaking picked up slang and the running of words together. I think it comes from the tendency to try to do everything in a hurry.

That is definitely the trend now-a-days. Hurry, hurry, do it fast, abbreviate and shorten tends to be the norm. Sometimes I fight that. I make myself slow down and I try to write out entire words without chopping them. (Except when I'm writing poetry, of course.) There's that part of me that refuses to buy into this need to quicken life. At meetings, I still take notes long hand and will not use a recorder.

So, when it comes to dialogue, the writer must decide how the characters behave and what the culture is when determining speech patterns. The character needs to be true or the story will not be believable. As I read more biographies and listen to interviews, I notice how much research will go into a project as authors will study places and people in which they plan to create their characters. It is important to them that their creations fit the scenes and that will make the story believable by the readers.

Another day. Had a lot going on yesterday so didn't get a chance to write. Things are calming down a bit--- I hope. Ma's fluids are looking a little more normal this morning, so the bleeding is slowing. I feel I can breathe easier.

Yesterday I had a realization about my "magic pill" theory. The theory is that there are a lot of people, like my mother, who believe that they can go to the doctor and be given a pill to make them feel good or feel like they used to. Ma always says that the doctors are holding out and I keep telling her that there are no magic pills and that YOU have to work at making yourself better. Yesterday, I realized that I, too, have an expectation and that is that people should be healthy when they come home from the hospital. I guess that isn't very realistic. People are sent home all the time who are not in good condition. Oh, well. Reality check.

This morning I chose to sleep later and when I arose, I was thinking about how my mother's plight is overshadowing my joys. Thursday, I was able to hang twelve of my drawings. Wow, did that seem good to finally get them framed and on the walls. They look pretty darn good, too. Then yesterday, we had a fantastic writing group. Our two new member have such a wonderful sense of humor and it was great that Holly felt well enough to join us. Later, two friends came and sat with Ma so I could go snowmobiling with Don, Carol, Henry, and Val. What a joy to get out in the fresh air!

Last night Ma made the comment that she misses having a menu to choose from for her meals. It made me think about how "happy" she appears when in the hospital. She has people waiting on her hand and foot. She has meal choices. There's almost always someone around willing to chat with her. She becomes bright eyed and her spirits rise.

She comes home and it's just her and I and I am not about to sit at her bedside all day or run back and forth getting her things. (Plus she likes her heat up to 90 degrees.) I won't get her medications because she needs to get up and move around, and this gives her an excuse to get out of bed. So her whole demeanor changes. She slumps. Her voice takes on a kind of "oh, woe is me" tone. There's nothing exciting going on here, no dramas in the halls or stories from other patients. (Personally, I think she reads too many love stories where the heroine has servants to do everything right down to laying out the day's clothes.)

There probably will come a time when Ma will have to be waited on, but we're not there yet. There's no reason for her to lay in bed most the day and she'd do a lot better if she got up and moved around. It'd even help her COPD.

Well, it's getting late. I'm going to download some pictures off the cameras. I need to do some snowmobile stuff and people want more cards.

Just when I thought things were headed in the right direction, my belief in the medical profession once more has been dashed into the ground. After a cat scan in the early morning, they did nothing else for Ma. At four thirty last night I got a phone call saying they were sending her home--- catheter still in place.

What?!!! That time of night they decide to send her home? I wasn't a happy camper. Yes, I want her to come home, but come home healthy. I don't like driving at night especially during the afternoon commute, so by the time I got to the hospital, I was not in the calmest of moods.

Ma informed me that the nurse wanted to talk to me to show me how to take care of the urine bag. Let me tell you, inside I was ready to boil over... or burst into tears. Draining and changing the bag isn't rocket science. Of course, every question I had, she couldn't answer. In the end, she asked if I had any questions and I replied, "Not any that you can answer." I couldn't keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

I don't care! The bleeding hasn't stopped. They only stood her up once in the past four days and she's expected to go home and return to regular life? Another thing is that they only came in once in those four days to help her wash up. Even Ma wasn't happy about that---having the same shirt on since Sunday--- and with drainage and all--- ooh yuck.

Needless to say, I'm snappy and cranky. This whole episode ticks me off. I guess if the doctors don't see a need to perform expensive procedures and surgeries, then you might as well go home--- that way when you get sicker, they can play with their machines and knives. Yep, all this just supports my dis-belief in the medical profession.

Seven degrees outside and I am parked four miles away from the entrance. Hey, at least the truck was warmed up by the time Ma got in. We got home a little after 7 p.m. Ma took one of her pills (one she is supposed to take EVERY day and hasn't had once since Sunday--- and I'd brought them in.) I took care of her things and by then, I was so hungry, my hands were shaking and I still had to change the bag. OOhhh, gross! If I wanted to be a nurse, I would have gone to nursing school!!!

Got that taken care of and the cleaning of the other was taking place. I made a dish of nachos and settled on the couch. It was almost 8:30. Ma went in the bathroom. "There's blood in my undies," she called. Uuggghhh, just what I want to hear while trying to eat. I put my plate down and went to check.

Now what? The liquid in the bag was definitely redder. Got her settled back in bed and when I checked later, she was sound asleep. I went off to bed myself.

Yes, I am angry, very. And upset. I don't usually get grossed out by things but I am really grossed out about this. Guess it goes to show that I can view from a distance, but to get close and have to touch---eeewwwww. I can't imagine doing this for a week. (She has to make an appointment to see the urologist in a week. They couldn't do it last night because by the time they sent her home, it was after hours.) I feel like throwing a temper tantrum like a little kid. Or maybe I'll just plain throw up.

I think about this anger. I could choose not to be angry, I know. I am choosing to be angry and in doing so, I have to look at why. I don't want to be a nurse nor do I want to be someone's servant. No offense, Ma, but I remember her saying to Margaret (her twin,) "Maggie, get me a Pepsi," "Maggie, make me some toast," and "Maggie, go get the mail." And that was when she was healthy.

I know I have issues with "servant," "serving," "waiting on." I used to work in a stock room where I had to wait on people coming to the window and get them their supplies. This was when my anger first came out. Perhaps that had come from many years of holding back. Anyway, there was something about people asking me to get them things that triggered an angry response. (Guess quitting that job didn't take care of the issue, ha ha.)

I have to also admit that there is a little guilt of not being a good daughter because I don't want to do those things for my mother. The anger sets in. I'm afraid that I will start to resent and hate her because I have to do these "gross" things. Okay, okay, I know I should be tapping on this stuff, but I have to go do other things. I have to get her taken care of before my morning Tai Chi class.

Arrrgghhh, get me through this!!!

I also realize that the anger hides the fear. I don't want to lose my mother. I'm not ready to be alone.

But all this aside, I have a ton of questions. A year or so ago, Ma was diagnosed with polycysistic kidney disease--- but it's nothing to really worry about at her age, though her children (meaning Don and I) should be checked. Nothing else has been said about it. Then she is being treated for a urinary tract infection--- but the doctor in the hospital doesn't know why because he saw no signs of it. Yet her bladder filled to near bursting, she had blood clots, and leakage and consistant issues with her abdomen. Hello? Is any of this related? It's like they are treating today's issue only without considering what's been going on all along. 'Course, I'm not a doctor, but we are just not getting any answers.

We were told there were no available beds in either Concord or Dartmouth. Here was my mother, bleeding, having had a blood transfusion, and they still couldn't get her to a place where she could get the specialized care that she needed. I couldn't help but fear that she would die while waiting to get that help.

The 96 year old lady in the next bed had gone home so I pulled the chair near that bed closer to Ma who told me that the urologist had just left. He wanted her in Concord and stated that HE'D get her a bed. I sure hoped so.

Oh, I could have easily gone to sleep. After chatting with Ma an hour and a half, I figured I'd go home. The nurse came in announcing that they had a bed in Concord, but she had gotten a phone call at the same time saying not to count on it. However, five minutes later she was back with two LPNs with bags to gather up Ma's stuff. "Get ready, you're going," JoJo announced and by the time I was walking down the hall, the guys were wheeling a stretcher into Ma's room.

It was as if a huge load was taken off my shoulders. Ma would be taken care of and they will find out what has been causing her problems. She will come home!

Another cold day. I went off to a meeting last night and never heard from the hospital or Ma. Don and Carol were going to see her which was good and would please Ma. I'll call in a little bit to find out her room number and what and when the procedure will be. Outside of feeling really tired this morning, I do feel a lot better about this whole episode. Maybe I can get a little extra work done around the house this morning, although I should take a run to the nursing home in Newport to visit my aunt Margaret, my mom's twin. I haven't wanted to tell her about Ma because I've not wanted to worry her--- though twins will know things.

I'll have to push myself today. I've had this opportunity to get things done and I've not been motivated. It's hard, too, when time has to be split running back and forth to the hospital. Perhaps I can hang some of the newly framed charcoal drawings on the wall. I could dig out the dumpster so I can put in the trash. I might go down stairs to the studio, too. I Should pay the bills or get ready for my writing group on Saturday by printing out and critiquing the writings.

Maybe if I move around, do a little Tai Chi dance, I'll have more ambition. I'd really like to lay down for another hour, but I won't. I'll push and have a good day.

"We can't stop the bleeding," the doctor informed me, "we'll have to transport her to Concord."

I was scared, yet relieved as I don't think that New London has been very good to her. The doctor went on to tell me that as soon as Concord found her a bed, she'd be on her way. I figured I'd scoot over to the hospital to visit.

It was an emotional drive. I put on a good front to Ma, but I am horribly worried. My head ran through various scenarios and I tried to imagine what it will be like to live alone and what would I do for a job. The thought of job hunting at this age is not a pleasant thought. I don't even want to think of not having her here.I kept telling myself to be strong because if she knew I'd been crying, she'd be upset and that's not beneficial to her mental well-being.

"They took my lunch away from me," Ma exclaimed when I walked in. "I can't have anything to eat or drink in case Concord needs to do procedures."

I had brought her a Pepsi and she stole sips of that. I didn't blame her. The air in that place was so dry. I drank my whole 24 oz bottle of water while there and kept my coat. No wonder she has four or five blankets.

The afternoon wore on and we chatted with the 96 year old woman in the next bed. She was doing better than Ma. She was going home.

I left a little after 2 figuring that it wouldn't be long before Ma was transferred to Concord. I also needed to get away because the place had an unpleasant odor. I was supposed to get foot massage at 3 and was really looking forward to it, but when I got home, there was a cancellation message. I crashed... but had to go out and cover snowmobiles that my brother had moved.

I put on boots and struggled out through snow over my knees. When I'd sink in the snow, I couldn't even reach the cover over the top of the machines. My boots filled with snow and my pant legs rode up my calf. I got the machines covered best I could and struggled back through the snow. By then, I was wet up to my thighs. I didn't even bother to change when I got in the house, but made a dish of nachos and settled on the couch with a book. I needed to forget for awhile and didn't feel like talking to anyone.

My brother called around six. He'd just talked to Ma. She was still in New London as a bed couldn't be found in Concord. What?!!! You've got to be kidding me! A hospital without any beds and a woman who is bleeding?

I don't even want to think about the consequences. What's going to happen? She certainly isn't getting the care she needs. What are the alternatives? The doctor had mentioned that Dartmouth is full, too. With this news, my fears escalated.

I am pretty good at putting my trust in God, in the Universe, but I am struggling right now. At 9:30, the phone again rang. You know it can't be good when the phone rings that time of night. It was Ma and the nurse. A blood transfusion was needed--- Jeez, considering she'd been bleeding since midnight Sunday and they hadn't done much to fix it...

Of course, I gave permission. Ma was worried about aids and I assured her that she doesn't need to worry about that. Trust, we need to trust. I know she has lost a lot of blood and something needs to be done. I'm a bit upset about what's going on; not only with her, but in the hospital care.

The urologist from Concord is in New London on Wednesdays. We'll see what happens today. I tell you, though, all this makes me disbelieve in the medical profession even more.

Deep down I know that I have to trust--- and I do--- but I am also realistic. I know that life isn't always flowers and it's been pretty darn good for some time. No matter how much I can prepare, I know that eventually will come the biggest crash of my life so far... and I am not really prepared... don't think anyone can ever really be...

I was wrong. I thought it was just another time when she'd get to the hospital and cheer up and her symptoms would be lessened. This has been such a struggle between my mother and I because every twinge of pain is perceived as an emergency. This time, I am caught by surprise--- and fear. This time, it was a real emergency.

She'd been battling a urinary tract infection since November and this latest rounds of meds made her very nauseated and when Ma gets sick, she panics. Her blood pressure goes up and she gets the dry heaves. She lays in bed worrying about all the disastrous illnesses she might have and thus makes herself worse. When she's nauseated, she cannot take Xanax to calm down.

The ambulance took her away before midnight and I went back to bed. Hey, this goes on at least once a year and last month was another such "cry wolf." I figured that they'd leave her sitting around for five hours and then I would be up and could call and find out what's going on. However, for once, I slept passed my normal time and didn't crawl out of bed until 6 o'clock.

I took my shower, got dressed, made a cup of coffee, and spent time writing. When I deemed it a reasonable hour, I put in a call to the hospital. They had admitted her and I was put through to her room. She sounded good, was bored because she didn't have her reading glasses or anything to read. She told me that they put in a catheter although the doctor in the ER told her that the urine was clear. By the time she was admitted, though, there was some blood. I asked her if she needed me to come soon and she said that she was doing fine and I didn't need to cancel my morning client.

I finally got to the hospital about 1 p.m. She hadn't seen a doctor since being admitted, but he was "making rounds." The room was very small and cramped. There was no place to be without being in someone's way. The LPNs were back and forth between my mother and the other patient. One had to change my mother's bag.

"It looks like that cranberry juice she's been drinking," I said staring at the bag, "Is that what it is?" The woman told me it was blood. Oh, my God... it certainly looked like blood, but how did that happen? Ma stated again that the ER doctor had said her urine was clear and that it didn't get bloody til after they put the catheter in. I tried to pooh pooh it and make like it wasn't a big deal. I cannot let my mother get worried--- she does enough of that without worrying about me being upset.

I hung around over an hour, then had to run errands. I trust that Ma is in good hands even though I doubt her previous treatments. After I'd put groceries away, I settled on the couch with a book. I'd just hung up the phone from giving an update to friends when the phone rang. It was Ma.

"You're not going to like this. It's bad," she began and then told me about a blood clot and what they are doing about it. The nurse happened to come in, so I had her tell me what they are doing, then when I got Ma back on the line, I was upbeat and telling her everything is going to be fine, yadda yadda. She has to keep her spirits up and cannot get panicky.

Later, the doctor called. With his prognosis, I am more worried. But I have to believe everything will work out okay. He said that what happened is that she had a blockage in her urinary tract and that caused the bladder to overfill. (But how can that be when she's been going to the bathroom A LOT for the past two months and has to wear Depends because she is leaking all the time?) When the bladder becomes too full, the walls become weak, then with the insertion of the catheter, there became damage which caused the bleeding. Her kidneys have failed because of this. They put in a different kind of catheter that will allow a clear solution to flush the bladder with hopes that the bleeding will be cleared and stopped and with that, the kidneys should kick in.

I said something about this going on since November with the urinary infection and he replied that in looking back through her records, he cannot see anything to prove there ever was a urinary infection. (So what was she being treated for? What the H is going on, has been going on?) He went on to say that the urologist will be in on Wednesday and he will have seen the report. Ma may have to have an operation and may have to be transferred to Concord.

I think of all the suffering she has gone through the past few months and I am not pleased with the treatment she has received. I definitely won't be bringing her back to her PC! Dr.Weber never once gave Ma an exam, almost seemed to be afraid to touch her. This should never have gone on this long. Ma is not the best of patients, for sure, but she deserves better. And now an issue needs to come to an emergency for anyone to pay attention.

I have to remain calm. I cannot let my emotions get out of hand and I certainly need to remain upbeat around Ma. I have a lot of questions that I'm sure won't be answered. In the long run, doctors have to protect themselves and will stick up for each other. I also have to realize our part in this. Ma refuses to see specialists. She is stubborn about what she will take for medications.

My own attitudes are just as stubborn regarding doctors. I don't think they are looking out for their patients. Medical care is now too much of a business... but this isn't the time to go into that. I don't want to lose my mother. She is not ready to go, yet, it is not necessary. Yes, she is her own worst enemy, but she still has some good life left--- if she can get the proper medical care.

We'll see how it goes. I've got my fingers crossed and I'm praying.

THE MUSE AND INTERRUPTIONS

The muse is upon me even before I get out of bed in the morning. She is chattering in my head while I get showered and dressed. She is impatient as I make my coffee and she is not happy until I am at my writing desk.

I love the early mornings and there is a specialness about the pre-dawn. The muse is eager to tell me of stirrings in the night only I don't quite have the language. Instead, I pull out issues from my own soul as she breathes fire on them and the more I write, the more active my brain becomes. The fire roars and I often jump from one subject to another as ideas ebb and flow like the tide.

In those moments of gushing creativity I am totally alive and my poor fingers cannot capture all the thoughts crashing like a wave over my head. I can only catch a few drops before I am dry and done for the day.

Mornings are my joy, my breath of life. When I get those feelings of "done," I am done and nothing can call the muse back. Happiness fills me and no matter what else I do the rest of the day, I have had my time.

Mornings also happen to be the time when my mother cannot stand to be alone. Even though she's on medications, she is often upset and panicky when she awakes. She wants conversation and company. I am cranky to be called from the muse because the muse will not tolerate the loss of full attention. Both demand my time simultaneously.

If I give in to my mother, the muse slips away and sometimes won't completely return for a day or more. If I give in to the muse, then my attention is split between the writing and the worry about my mother. Both are demanding of my time and both have their ways of "punishing" me if I don't give them their due.

But I love my life! I love life. I am grateful for so many things; to so many people. I have made the choice to be here in this space and this time. I want to celebrate what comes, no matter what. Tears and joy go hand in hand. I am thankful that the muse returns time after time and I appreciate my mother in all her glory and trappings.

And I love the mornings before dawn. Evergreens and field, mountain and changing skies draw my eyes and my wandering mind. My attention returns to page and with a sigh, fingers move and colors emerge.

Enjoy today, my friends. Laugh and cry and live!

CHALLENGES AND HEALING

Please bear with me on this writing. I am "thinking" and pulling thoughts together, so this might not be a finished piece.

I am faced with some kind of challenge every day and sometimes my frustration levels make me pull back and go into hiding. Still, I have to face them. Today, for instance, I cannot get into Outlook Express to check my e-mails and when I am working with deadlines, it puts me behind schedule. I did some updates and took the time while waiting to clean my bathroom. Back to the computer and I still couldn't check e-mails. Perhaps it's tds and I am just not meant to do that today. That has happened before and the next day everything is fine.

Oh, I know, you will tell me that challenges will make one strong and I do realize that is true. I have pared my life down in an effort to be more relaxed and spontaneous, but darn, I am still butting my head against the wall. Maybe it is part of the human condition. One Buddhist belief is that we are here to suffer and it sure seems like that way sometimes.

But I refuse to bow down to the "oh, woe is me" syndrome. I am not going to let myself feel like everything goes wrong. I am determined to celebrate life!

However, issues do need to be addressed. Sweeping problems under the rug is never the answer, so I want to look at what it means to face daily challenges and how I go about dealing with them. I am constantly asking myself (or the Universe) questions and many times will receive answers in one form or other.

If I break it down, the issues don't appear to be the same. Today, it's Outlook Express, yesterday it was trying to get lint off of plexiglass to frame my drawings, earlier it was dealing with my mother's failing memory, the night before was uplifting someone who is going through a hard time, or shoveling snow, et. al. It's as if the moment I deal with one thing, something else will come along to get in my face.

I like to think that most of the time I do very well. One thing I have learned about myself is that my first reactions are often... negative... although I like to think that I don't let that out. (Oh, sometimes I do...) I know that I have to step back and let the situation be for a bit, to sleep on it. Then I am able to cope with my reaction and the issue.

That doesn't always work, though. No matter how hard a negative reaction is held back, part of it leaks through. If the person you are dealing with is sensitive, they will pick up on that attitude and most of the time, I don't want that to happen. There are times when all a person will remember is that initial reaction and I can come across as unfriendly and stand-offish.

On the other hand, if we hold back, are we being untrue to ourselves? This is where diplomacy and good communication comes in. There are many times when I'd have less stress over a situation if I simply asked for clarity. I'm getting to know myself well and in the effort to respect others, it is sometimes better to back off and let them be and that doesn't mean being untrue to the self.

In dealing with any challenge, it is important that I know my truth. I can listen to someone and in my heart disagree, but I can be open enough to allow them their say... and if a situation should get to the point where I cannot do that, then it is time for me to leave. Other daily challenges, such as when I cannot do something the way I want it done, I have to just step back and give myself time to figure it out. I will ask questions of others and wait til I am comfortable enough to work with it again.

What is most interesting are some of the thoughts that stir when faced with these challenges. Perhaps that is the real reason that the difficulties come up. I have to THINK, take a bigger picture and sometimes narrow it down--- deep down. Then once I come to terms with that issue, I can broaden my focus once again and when I am able to do that, I almost always have more clarity and better vision. I will feel more at peace because I have dealt with a situation and come out whole. SOME kind of healing will have taken place.

And thus I have babbled this morning. There's much more to this subject, but for now, I am done. Eventually I bring together a more concise and meaningful piece. I hope you enjoy and will tell me your thoughts about challenges and healing from them.

Thank-you.

Seven a.m. and the sky is a brilliant pink with an orchid colored background; absolutely gorgeous! I love this time of day before sunrise when the colors of dawn are awakening the day.

There was a knocking on the door 7 o'clock last night. It was Fed-X. My framing kits arrived. Yea! I can finally get my drawings finished and hung on the walls. Hey, I may even be able to sell two or three... or four or... Oh, I've had such an issue with this phase of my work, but I am determined that this year I shall get the pieces I like the best framed. I am so excited.

But playing with the kits will have to wait til after Tai Chi class. I hope I got the sizes right... but if not, I can always do a drawing to fit.

Wish me luck.

HEALING WORK AND SELF DOUBT

"I wish everyone would do it like I do it," she said. Immediately my defenses went up. I want to do it "my way" and I have spent a lot of years developing "my way." Yet, I have to consider her words. She's not the only one to have made that statement and if we are to support one another, these issues need to be considered. We all have our opinions and beliefs and those must be honored.

One of my gifts is that I can see both sides, so once I am able to get past my initial reaction to a statement, I am able to look at what's going on around it. I had to recognize that this is an area where I can be stubborn--- which is a sarcastic ha ha considering the belief in being open. I have to look at this further and what I realize is that it is about self doubt.

We are very passionate in what we do. On one hand, we say we are open, but in our hearts, we believe that we have found the way. However, doubts are there. They creep in silently. Suddenly, we are wondering if we are doing it right. Maybe so and so has the real answer and we should be doing it her way or maybe we are stubborn and want others to do it like us or everyone could become like me and insist on doing it in her own style refusing even to try someone else's way.

I don't think there's any ONE true way. We all find our own paths and no one does it exactly the same as the next. Even two people doing Reiki will eventually develop their own styles. There will be similarities in what one another does, but other individual factors will develop.

The self doubts pop out when we are alone. Oh, perhaps I should have done it differently. Maybe I'm not really helping my client. I could be disillusioned or crazy or, or, OR... a FRAUD!

This is one of the reasons for getting together as a group. We can help eachother, tell each how wonderful she is, and experience what one another is doing. If our intent is pure and we genuinely want to help others, then we cannot allow ourselves to think we are doing anything wrong! We are not.

I believe that when I put my hands (or mind) out to work on someone, something else takes over. Yes, I have training in multiple disciplines, but it isn't just that. There's something more, something greater. The moment we set ourselves up to do healing on a person we are opening the door to that greater healing power--- whether we call it God, Spirit, Universal Healing or whatever--- that comes through us and somehow mixes with our technical training. We have all discussed how we "know" certain things and that is that something greater coming through.

What right have we to doubt that?

Yet, that's what we do everytime we have uncertainties whether we have done the right thing. If we doubt ourselves, we are doubting the spirit that moves within us; we are doubting the healing that channels through us.

Yes, we are human beings and we do make mistakes in life, but I 100% believe that when we are open to Spirit and doing a healing, it is more than just us. We have to trust in that Spirit and allow that what happens with that client is between Spirit and that client. We are only a channel, only a tool for Spirit to use in healing. We are not personally responsible for the health of the client. We are only doing the best we can to help. That's all we CAN do. Anything else isn't up to us.

So what do we do when the doubts creep into our brains? I have to keep reminding myself to trust in the Spirit... and it sometimes is a physical effort to do so. I have to STOP my thinking pattern at that point and force myself to think of other things. I have to busy myself doing something. It's important, too, to call on a friend or fellow healer. Sometimes a word or two from a friend will help us get back on track. That's what we do. We help one another... and in doing so, can help ourselves.

Had an awesome Healers' meeting last night in which one of my Tai Chi students volunteered to come in for a group healing. The energy was incredible! The group is getting stronger as we use each other's talents to make ourselves strong.

We are a small group. We do Reiki, EFT, Chakra Clearings, Tai Chi, and massage to name a few. The group is basically a sharing of information and techniques. It's also a place where we can talk about our lives and get support.

It's an open atmosphere and the conversation may be about spirit, disease, or coping with what life offers. We've done some shamanic drumming and journeying, Tai Chi dance, and foot and hand massages. Future plans include having a medicine man teach us about the thirteen color medicine wheel as another healing tool.

They wanted someone to do the newsletter, but as I am not an avid snowmobiler, I struggle with finding my own words and have to rely on what others tell me and by the notes I take at the meetings. It stretches my creativity levels as many of the words are kind of foreign sounding to my ears. They talk about Tuckers and groomers and drags. They mention particular trails and conditions and they bring up names of people I've not met.

But I love to write and I agreed to the task. I'm glad to help and hope that it won't get too overwhelming and take too much time from my other work. I've never been much for volunteering, so perhaps this will be my way of giving back.

What is it about writing that draws me? Why do I prefer colored pens over telephones? One reason is that I can do it on my own time. Most of the time, I don't have to rely on someone else's input and can let the words fall from my thoughts. Writing is a way of avoiding direct contact. Not that there's anything wrong with direct contact, it's that I get distracted and won't say or won't get to say everything I would like to. Sometimes when I am face to face with someone, emotions will get in the way of speech and the mind and throat will choke.

I do my morning journaling with colored pens. Color is a celebration! I am a pen fanatic and I buy a set of pens at least once a month whether I need them or not. I particularly like gel pens--- when they work. It seems, however, that at least one in a set doesn't write well and no matter what I do, it will still skip and not be smooth.

For years, I hand wrote all my articles before putting my hands on the keyboard. I still struggle with reading the screen, but these days I do more writing directly on the computer (except for my journaling.) Oh yes, I am learning to take the shorter, quicker route.

Poetry still must be handwritten first. There is something about the act of writing that brings forth that type of creativity. Perhaps it is being bent over the page as compared to sitting straight up. It's certainly a different kind of energy that comes with a poem--- almost feels like poems evolve from another part of the brain; right brain, left brain kind of thing.

Anyway, such as it is. These are my thoughts today.

I thought this was my dream house. I thought I wouldn't ever want to move again. Once more when I've thought "I've arrived" I find I am only on a stepping stone to the next place.

Oh, don't get me wrong, this place is really nice and the views are fabulous! It's just that I'd like a little more privacy. When we bought this place, I didn't realize that the field 30 feet from the back door was a snowmobile trail. I didn't realize that there'd always be people walking by--- which I don't really mind--- except when their dogs come in the yard and eat the food we put out for the birds.

I know people aren't really looking in the windows but it feels that way and when the snowmobiles ride back and forth, I feel intruded upon by the presence and the noise, and when the lights shine in the window at night, I really feel my privacy is invaded and that we are on display.

So this has become another lesson in learning what I want. I certainly don't regret moving here. I love looking across the field to the mountains. I love the peacefulness of the area (except when snowmobiles are zooming past.) What's really ironic is that there are particular things I wanted in a house, but because I fell in love with this property, I did not pay attention to the other.

Do I have regrets? No, of course not. I made a decision for that time. I could have done things differently. I could have held off and not been so impatient to move. That's all water under the bridge. We came here and that was good. Now it is time to start thinking about another move. There's time to plan. We'll need to wait for the economy to come up.

Plus I need to consider that the next move might be without Ma and I am NOT ready for that! I am not ready to be alone. Maybe that's why I am being disillusioned about this property. Maybe I am being prepared. I really don't want to think about that. I'm not willing to let her go yet nor is she really ready to go.

For this moment, though, I need to move on. Didn't mean to sound...down, this morning. I'm not really. Just thinking and preparing. 'Course I do have to wonder if I should continue unpacking and setting up my studio... Yeah, because then it could be better organized when the time comes to pack it back up. Who knows, I may even accomplish something great before then.

What's in a dream house?

What are you preparing for?

Sometimes when I have so much to do I feel overwhelmed. I have to pull back and remind myself that it's okay to take small steps. I don't have to accomplish everything now. It's not going to happen anyway so why worry about it. In these times I just keep telling myself that I will be satisfied with whatever I get done.

I have my writing group this morning and my focus has to turn away from the self. The wind is whipping snow squalls around the house and across the fields and I am wishing I did not have to go out. I can easily get lost in looking out the window but even the birds are silent this morning. Perhaps they are staying in their cozy warm beds. Do birds have cozy warm beds?

Copies are made and critiquing is done. Pretty soon I'll have to move from this spot. I'm just about out of coffee anyway and I like to have my morning two cups. Today the first was Gloria Jeans Butter Pecan and I am thinking I'll have Van Houttes Creme Broulee for the second. Yummy. Since Adam introduced me to Keurig K-cups, I totally enjoy coffee!

Other thoughts that are on my mind this morning are about organizing and selling my notecards and poetry cards. I also have a bunch of photos on the camera that need to be downloaded. These are the shots of birds I've been working on and the latest are of the owl that has become Nelson's mascot. Those should make some nice cards.

And thus I babble on. Killing time because I don't have time to get involved in any project. I am still hoping to get into dialogue with others and have people respond to my postings. Though why they would want to respond to this drivel is anyone's guess. But I put the intent out there and I invite correspondence to mainly talk about life journey, healing, and the arts.

I am a simple spider sending a vibration along the unseen web calling to like minds...

I'm working hard at getting myself organized. So many times I feel I cannot get anything new accomplished because I've not finished off past work. Three years of living in this house and I still don't have my studio set up completely. But I'm getting there!

I suppose it could be said that it's because I don't stick to one thing. Gosh, how can I when there's so many interesting things to do? I have all kinds of ideas for projects from photography, painting, charcoal drawing, and creating multi-media pieces from things that I find. And that's not including my writing!

I try to be different. I don't want to do what everyone else is doing. However, I'm at the point now where I need to be getting something back for what I've spent in supplies, but I'm really struggling with promoting myself. I love to do the work and I don't mind showing it off, but to sell it is another story and not a strong point.

I suppose you could say that I self-sabotage myself. I don't always FINISH a project. When it comes to mounting, matting, and framing, I fall apart. I've bought the tools, but can't cut a straight line to save my life! I tried to buy cheap frames--- and found you get what you pay for.

But this year I am determined! I have given up trying to do the framing myself. I don't have to do everything. I am currently waiting for a shipment of framing materials so that I can finally call my charcoal drawings finished. I am working on a new website so that I can sell some of my works and I am making notecards using the photos I have taken.

I am making progress and I am pleased. However, I have come against another issue and that is my writing and computer space is on the second floor where I have a nice view of field and mountains, but my studio is in the basement. The writing isn't much affected, but the photography can be because if I print something up here, by the time I get it to the studio to frame it, I've lost the vision of my plan.

Another issue with this set up is that I also do my healing work in this room which, even though there is a room screen, this space can look pretty messy and both areas are a bit cramped. I don't want to move the work space downstairs, though, because I love watching night turn to day. The pre-dawn is my favorite time.

What this comes down to is that I will continue to work in this fashion for the time being. I am constantly making improvements and I celebrate every small step. I am making progress. And as long as I am doing so, I have nothing to complain about. Yea yah.

Another cold day. At least this weather keeps my focus to these inside projects. I have so much to do: newsletter to put together, snowmobile article, and my website to update to name a few. The newsletter will be fairly easy to write and send in e-mail, but the snail mail will be tricky. This will be my first time at that and I've never made address labels before. The other article I can put off for another week.

The website is the hardest. I am doing a total re-vamp as my goal is to sell my art work. What makes it most difficult is that my talents are not focused in one area. I have poems and poetry cards, notecards of some of my photos, original charcoal landscape drawings, plus a few other pieces that I put together.
I am not very business minded and really struggle in the pricing of my art work and the promoting of the projects. Oh, I enjoy sharing the poems and showing off my accomplishments, but I am not good at getting anyone to buy. I am at the stage in my life now where I must push forward. I can't do any more work until I move what I have.


Even doing this blog is taking time away from something else, but I want to do this. Yes, it's another learning experience as I fight to figure out how this all works, but in the long run, it will be beneficial. I am hoping to meet other artists and writers as sharing life stories can be very inspiring. I like hearing about what others do and how they handle their situations.

And now I must get ready for my Tai Chi students.

The following is something I wrote last year. I do healing work--- along with teaching Tai Chi, writing, photography, and art. I struggle with titles and I've finally reached the point where I can comfortably call myself writer, photographer, and artist, but...

Please feel free to tell me how you've struggled with leadership and teaching.

GIVE THEM A REASON

"Give them a reason and feedback about how they can achieve what they seek.

Find out what they need and give it to them," Kate advised.

When I was told this, I felt a revelation. It's not like I haven't known this, but I have an issue with trying to make anyone do anything. However, hearing it said thusly, my mind ran on, Yes, Yes! Then I stopped to ask myself why haven't I been doing this all along?

I have run many successful classes and a couple that weren't so good. I have agonized over why one group works and the next doesn't. People have often told me that I am a wonderful teacher, but the doubts ask, If I am so wonderful, why don't they come back?

My style has always been to provide the information then leave it up to the people to work it out. I wanted them to explore their own paths. I've never wanted to tell people what to do for fear they will question my authority or training. I don't want them to doubt or ridicule me. I've never pushed them to practice, so they don't and what I realized from my friend's comment was that by acting in this manner, I am not taking responsibility for what I preach. I tell people what the learnings have done for me, but I don't promote what it will do for them... guess it's from fear that if "it" doesn't happen for them, they will find fault with me.

I'm afraid to promise something that they will not follow through on. I assume they won't practice. I tried to get them to explore on their own with only basic lessons and what has happened is that they flounder. I've not wanted to call myself teacher, leader, or instructor and people won't follow someone who is indecisive. They want to be taught and led until they reach the point where they feel safe on their own.

What I have been doing is handing them a line blowing in a strong wind without having the other end tied down. That's what I have to focus on--- giving them an anchor. I have to lead them to a sturdy foundation and then they can go to the end of the rope themselves knowing they will be safe.

I have a lot of information to share and procedures to teach and in order for me to be successful, I have to take responsibility of bringing out the best of those teachings. If my beliefs are strong in what I am sharing, then I must stand up tall and exclaim, "This is what I will teach you. This is what you will accomplish." Then I must proceed to do what I promise.

I owe this to all those who have taught me.

The sky is a pale blue and the sun hasn't crested the tops of the trees. Shortly, I will be blinded and will have to put my curtains down. Ahh, it's coming, a dark orange arc rising above the snow covered evergreens. Now it is more round and still partially blocked by limbs. I am already squinting.

The robins are here. Can you believe it? January in NH and my backyard is full of robins. They are after the cherries which today are covered in ice. Between them and the cedar waxwings they will have the two trees bare within a few weeks.

Blogging is new to me. I had that initial foray when I first opened this site, but didn't keep up with it. This time I will link it to my website and hopefully open up some dialogue and thought.

I am doing this now because I have recently published a book. "My Life Isn't Flowers" is a combination of poetry, photography, and art--visit www.lulu.com to preview and/or buy.

I have been writing... forever... it feels and I can be quite introspective as I study this life I live. I am also an avid photographer and never leave home without my camera. Publishing the book has been an experience for me. I never wanted to deal with rejections so I wouldn't go the normal route and when a friend suggested I try lulu.com, I looked into it. So far, I am pleased with the results.

My goal is to share the work that I do. I believe that by telling our life stories and talking about what we learn, we can help one another heal. Even when one person responds that they like what I have written makes me feel that I've done my job.

MIRROR IMAGING AND PAYING ATTENTION TO WHAT IT MEANS

I like to think that I have a really good rapport with M. I have been pleased that he listens to my suggestions and we talk over issues at work and look for resolutions, but what I enjoy about our relationship the most is the fact that he is a mirror.

What do I mean about a mirror? I had heard how other people can "mirror" your actions by their own way of being, but I had never been able to... really see it before. Perhaps I am explaining this poorly, but in reading on, you will be able to get the picture. In other words, by some negative action of theirs, you can better understand a similar action within yourself and therefore work at changing that pattern.

I have anger issues and anyone who has ever worked with me definitely knows that. It starts out as frustration and evolves into anger when I cannot get the issue resolved. (After all, I believe that everyone should have the same work ethics as I do and when they don't perform to my standards... let's say that I get quite put out.) I have spent years trying to come to terms with this and there has been much guilt when I have taken my anger out on unsuspecting persons... although in my mind at the time, they deserved it, no one deserves it.

Yesterday I go into work to find a total disaster area. It looked like a hurricane blew through. There were boxes tipped over with books falling onto the floor (Bargain area,) there were packing peanuts all over the floor around the returns desk and dumped between the trash bucket and desk (my work space,) and a large double sided, four shelf cart left in front of the receiving door, full of books and heavy to move. There was a v-cart which had had books on it, but half of them had been knocked to the floor. Trash buckets were full and the cardboard container was stacked higher than I am tall. The floor was littered with trash as people empty boxes or bring things back and just leave the trash laying around for someone else to take care of. Instead of being stacked, boxes were spread out taking up floor space.

I started cleaning and stacking and emptying trash. I swept the floor and neatened the room getting it ready for the day's delivery. There are some areas, some people's sections, that I am tired of cleaning up. I left that area alone thinking that if he wants to work in a pig pen, let him. (Periodically, I get tired of looking at that mess and clean it up. It's close to my work space and I feel that reflects on me.) I received some kids stuff and took out the trash when the door was unlocked.

I told M, with a laughed, that it was a good thing that I come in first and get the place relatively neat before he shows up. He would have had a fit to come in to that. (Maybe I ought to take a Monday off once in a while so he can see what Monday mornings are like.) He proceeded to give me the speech on remaining calm and not letting that upset me. He told me that he doesn't let this type of stuff bother him anymore, that he remains calm and cool.

I was laughing to myself. All the time he is patronizing me, I am remembering the guy who throws a temper tantrum at least every other day. Here's the guy who swears and kicks things and throws boxes and he's telling me how calm he is? Yeah, right.

The Lesson? What is really neat is that I recognize that mirror-imaging. He is showing me how I act and although I am not physical (I don't throw boxes or kick things... as much as I'd like to sometimes,) there is still that "wanting to" in me. I know I consciously project how unhappy I am with this work situation. M shows me what the anger looks like to other people. It also shows me that as often as I think I remain calm and cool, I don't in certain instances and I am sure that M feels the same. He remembers times when he is calm as I remember times that I am at peace.

We are both getting better, though. He is much more calm than he used to be when we first started working together. Perhaps we are learning from one another. I know I am better, or at least, I have a faster recovery rate and I do not stay angry as long. The despair does not linger, though there are days when I wonder why I am still there. (I know why... there are benefits.) There are days when I just want to sit and cry when I see what is left from the day before. (More lessons in humility to be learned... or maybe acceptance is a better word.)

I am recognizing in myself certain... patterns... that I'd like to improve on. Frustrations with others behaviors... it seems I can accept them for who they are until they "invade" my personal space. There is something within me that "fights" the... ????... of having to serve people or being a servant or taking care of someone or waiting on someone. (This is a biggie for me and I am not even close to handling it yet.)

But I am better, I promise, and I am getting better all the time. Maybe this is what this life journey is all about.

What do you think?

The following was written by my friend, Taylore. I love what she says here. We have all built our lives around what has been dictated to us. Even I, in trying to fight the norm, have built who I am around these views. Wow, reading this really makes me think... and cringe... and wonder why we do it.


have you ever read The Beauty Myth? I don't agree w/ all of it.. but it points out some interesting things about the way "beauty" is portrayed in advertising.. she talks a lot about the irony of the fact that women who are emaciated, unhealthy, probably not ovulating and unable to bear children due to their frame are projected as the "ideal" for the female...gaunt, weak, and easily overpowered. Lots of advertising has successfully convinced healthy women they must alter their bodies in a clearly unhealthy way in order to be 'perfect.' At a time when women are living longer, able to be more active, are attaining more and more power, they are at the same time putting their bodies in physical danger by cutting and invading them forbreast implants, liposuction, face lifts etc...starving their bodies.. and this somehow dignifies us, allows us to feel we are more desired and acceptable to society?? I try to remind myself of that when I start to feel 'victimized' by society's ideals.. inreality, I'm no victim.. It's my job to makedecisions/self-evaluations that aren't influenced by the mass media's RETARDED ploys to makeme buy more products. Blah. have you ever read The Beauty Myth? I don't agree w/ all of it.. but it points out some interesting things about the way "beauty" is portrayed in advertising.. she talks a lot about the irony of the fact that women who are emaciated, unhealthy, probably not ovulating and unable to bear children due to their frame are projected as the "ideal" for the female...gaunt, weak, and easily overpowered. Lots of advertising has successfully convinced healthy women they must alter their bodies in a clearly unhealthy way in order to be 'perfect.' At a time when women are living longer, able to be more active, are attaining more and more power, they are at the same time putting their bodies in physical danger by cutting and invading them forbreast implants, liposuction, face lifts etc...starving their bodies.. and this somehow dignifies us, allows us to feel we are more desired and acceptable to society?? I try to remind myself of that when I start to feel 'victimized' by society's ideals.. inreality, I'm no victim.. It's my job to makedecisions/self-evaluations that aren't influenced by the mass media's RETARDED ploys to makeme buy more products. Blah.

FIFTEEN

There were fifteen of them that day

fifteen who poked and prodded

fifteen, who at various intervals,

came and asked questions

for which I had no answers

There were fifteen that night

roaming the corridors

coming to look

fifteen who spent hours

watching and waiting

for heaven knows what

I kept quiet through it all

the endless poking

the meaningless comments

the looks that reminded me

of that time on the bus...

well, I won't go there...

For fifteen days and nights

my mind wandered the darkness

while my body lay in listless state

for fifteen weeks

that felt like fifteen months

I walked the border between this world

and that

Sometimes I don't know where my writings come from. Earlier I had watched a tv program, Inside the Actor's Studio with Jodie Foster. She talked about the movie Accused in which she played a rape victim. I never saw the movie, but watching Jodie talk about it, I could easily get caught up in her emotion. It was a hard role for her and she still feels the effect.

At first, with my writing, the "picture" in my head was of a gang rape, but the end "picture" was of being in the hospital. Did Jodie's talk trigger something in me? I certainly have not had that experience. When the poem was done, I thought that it had morphed into something different, but now I am not so sure. The mind does funny things. Could the "I" in my poem have been a victim and the mind confused doctors, nurses, and the assailants? And what happens to that woman during the time of healing... can she ever be fully healed when the minutes turn to hours and the hours to days... and weeks... and months? Can she ever again feel safe?

I don't know where I came up with the number fifteen. It just kind of stuck in my head and felt right. Perhaps, as I was not writing about a personal experience, I could not interject one as I tried to do with the bus experience. I could not put one of my memories into someone else's story. So, where did the story come from?

This poem, FIFTEEN, started with one line, "There were fifteen of them that day." A picture formed in my mind. I did not know where it would go. I simply picked up pen and paper and began to write. The "picture" blurred. I could not see faces. The words came to write the poem and I was just a witness.

Tell me a little about your writing practices. Do you spend hours working on a piece? Do you have to think hard or do ideas just come to? Where do your ideas come from?