being thankful

for those who think i am nothing but a bit depressing and bleak ... i give you my list of things that make me feel indebted to whatever sort of being has been looking out for me or grateful to the chaos that is out there in the universe who just happened to throw these my way:

1. Oldest, Middle and Lil One ... they bring me an inordinate amount of joy, more than any other person in this world could ever hope to. i am by far luckier to have them in my life than i will ever be able to show.
2. Lil one's remission... 7 years so far. The hardest time is the first 5 years, because more often than not, cancers return during that time. his has been quiet and hopefully 100% dead & gone.
3. love ... i couldn't imagine my life any other way
4. *d* ... for everything, anything and all things
5. ms, sm, sg, gd, ja, dg, kh, kk, sc, hc, kw ... i finally feel like i have a family.
6. printed words ... motivation, inspiration, or just plain trash - doesn't matter.
7. blogging/forum friends ... you have touched my life in a way i didn't think possible. thank you for reading my thoughts, for being here to listen and for giving pep talks, critiscism, and laughs.

happy thanksgiving all. be thankful, well rested, and at peace.

inked

somewhere over the rainbow

i'm not sure if i really remember this or if my mother had told me about it so many times that i have claimed it as my own, but my first favorite color was yellow. coming in a close second was orange. i loved them so much that anything i could ask for would be in either of those two. it went so far as to be the (or what i thought would be) the future car of inked ... a yellow Volkswagen bug with a biiig orange bow on the top ... HEY i was 4!! i only ate lollipops in those colors and i would pick out all the yellow and orange m&m's. i remember my clothing being abundantly yellow ... my crayons all broken and stripped naked of their paper covering except for orange and yellow, as if i despised even looking at the letters that spelled out another color. i was obsessed (i know, SHOCK, GASP, NO!).

i believe this phase lasted until i was about 12 at which time i looked about my room decorated in various yellows and oranges, and decided that i detested yellow ... i loathed orange ... i needed some citrus cleansing ... NOW! my room was stripped of anything that looked remotely yellow/orange ... the new colors were deep purple, sexy lavender, stark white, severe black ... bold, loud, harsh .. exactly what i needed to be away from the colors i thought of as infantile.

as the years passed, so did my inclination for those colors. i started to adopt a more varied wardrobe and more soothing surroundings. i chose colors based on how i felt that day, not just sticking to them because i was trying to prove a point. by the time i was in my junior year in high school, i had become more of a color whore. day after day, the colors would be different, i was not choosy. i felt liberated from the monotony of my self made pigment prison. but somehow, i still could not bring myself to wear yellow or orange. i couldn't look at either of those colors without feeling a bit claustrophobic ... feeling the overpowering box that as a child i put myself in because of my color preference. yes, pink had made it into my wardrobe as had peach ... but the exact shades of my childhood were still being unconsciously barred.

now as i write this, i am very happy to tell you i have crossed my last hurdle. i knitted a yellow and white hat last night and there it is, sitting right on top of my head. i'm not quite sure if it looks good on me (somehow yellow is always the color that people say looks awful on them), but it somehow feel right. i remember being in the store and picking up the yellow yarn ... and feeling connected. sounds weird, huh?

i think it just may be that i finally have come to grips with how things were in my past. that i finally know that neither yellow or orange are to blame for the way that i feel ... i know it may be hard to think that at the ripe old age of 34 i haven't figured that out before now, but i suppose i hadn't. now before you all think i am crazy i know that colors are not to be blamed for how my childhood went. but my room was the place i tried to hide in, to retreat to, to feel safe in ... and i think somehow i felt slighted by that. because i wasn't safe there. and rather than blame the obvious, as a kid i somehow deflected this onto the room. i don't know if it's normal behavior for our household, since i've never asked my brother how he feels. i do know that i've never seen anything red in his home since we were kids.

so maybe it's because i am more secure with myself, that i don't have to worry about hues filling me with dread. or maybe it's because i have been so disconnected lately that i realize that the sadness can follow you around even if your room is transparent.

kinda dumb ... kinda ... well, dumb

so the puppy above is supposed to bark when you click on him. i think i may have f*cked up when i copied and pasted him. oh well.

i want a dog. badly. so, until i have my own place back ... the silly pink dog will have to do.

how is everyone?

whatever can go wrong ...

hey there friends and neighbors. here's a tale about a girl who seems to have been gone for a bit because of things beyond her control. you see, she's been dreaming, nay wishing, about her apartment problem and how 'twas supposed to be fixed by the end of this here week.

of course, the saying goes, whatever can go wrong ... will. cuz just as everything was supposed to be fixed right as rain ... BLAMMO ... that there rug was pulled out beneath her and it looks as though she is back right where she started.

y'all know about her plight ... her apartment was condemned and she was in quite a jam. well, the landlord (who as luck would have it) was only 1/3 owner of her property, his elders were the other 2/3's. well that one 1/3 was having a might of a time trying to get everything done and fixed to her liking under the radar ... that is, he was quite scared of his parents so he was fixin' to do all of the work behind their backs. this included giving the damsel free rent for a while (since he fixed the apartment so that it was up to code) and reimbursement for all her ruined furniture/items. he was also gonna have the apartment exactly how she wanted it - everything all fixed right purty. well that was last week.

this week it seems that that youngin' (well truth be told he is in his 50's) is now in the hospital. we have no more knowledge of what is to come of his agreement with the girl. she is now back in limbo, living with various people and out of a suitcase.

now before you think that the girl has a black heart because she is not worried about the man, hold yer tongue. she is very worried, and not because he holds her immediate home in his hands. in reality she feels somewhat guilty about the whole thing. has the stress of it all caused him to get this sick? does she lay down her grievances and call it quits? she's not sure. she doesn't want anything to happen to the man. but he has been known to tell a few tall tales in the past. like the one about the condemnation of her apartment ... not really true. he was just trying to buy some time to fix up the apartment at his leisure. when she wouldn't go away silently he realized that he needed to make it right. the gal hardly thinks that the man is lying about the sickness, but she hates to think that he has been the boy who called wolf before.

so that's where she's been. here but without the creative bug to get her going to write something she is passionate about. for the most part, that's what she wants to try to convey on this here storypage.

so, keep the fires burning ... she'll come back soon to sit a spell.

alarm clock, you demon of the morning

as my eyes shot open this morning, instantly alarmed by the sound of a thousand jackhammers going off inside my head, i realized how much i could do without the nasty contraption that is called the alarm clock. once my feet hit the floor, automatically heading towards the ungodly noise to shoot it/throw it/beat it/kill it now now now, i started to think. now this isn't normally a great time for me to start formulating ideas because things like "pj's to work aren't that bad as long as i wear dress shoes" or "i don't really NEED a shower today my hair looks fine pulled back into a ponytail all greasy like that" start sounding like good plans.

this morning was different however. for some reason - and i'm willing to bet that it is more than likely because of our recent list fascination on these blogs - my thought process was actually heading into a direction that i immediately recognized as something that could be written down. (it's kind of sad actually, that i am thinking of what i will write in my blog when i wake up now, instead of the normal "hey, the snooze button is the greatest invention since flavored creamers")

anyway, my mind started to make up a list of things i could do without, alarm clocks being #1 obviously. so i think that in my fuzzy-headed waking up, i was thinking of a perfect world. one where i am doing exactly what it is that makes me happy (and in that perfect world i would know what it was). all of these thoughts actually followed me into the shower and along with me on my drive to work (which, btw, is definitely NOT it).

remember that i am not thinking about people since that list would be FAR too long, considering that i am anti-social and mean-spirited some of the time. this list is just for THINGS that i can do without. the list of people will come later but will probably be filled with people that, more likely than not, would rather do without me instead of the other way around.

anyway, on with the show:

• Alarm Clock - this god-forsaken machine is way worse to me than any sort of high-heeled shoe that pains my feet. i would be forever happy if i could re-enact the printer scene in Office Space with any and all alarm clocks. actually, any clock would do ... i am not a watch person, i do not wear one, nor need one.
• Cell Phones - i get horrified looks from people when they find out that i don't have one. no, i don't have a pager, nor a blackberry, nor a text-er either ... whatever those mean. i am not into letting people have complete access to me. and yes, before you butt in to tell me that caller ID would let me know if i wanted to talk to someone, let me just tell you this ... if i had that capability on a phone, ALL calls would go to voicemail - then what would it matter if i had a cell phone?
• Electric Stoves - who thought this was a good idea? i'm sure on paper it looks delightful, in reality, not so much. the forever warm up, the uneven cooking area, the forever cool down. and as funny as it is to watch a cat jump up not realizing that the burner is kinda warm (now i said KINDA warm, so don't start with your animal sympathizing, remember this is a cat who pees on the bed when she's pissed off), i really don't think that it should takes 2 hours to cool down enough so i can clean you off.
• Perfume/Cologne - ok, come on, the majority of this stuff is rank. i think i could let this one slide if (and i mean IF) they gave lessons on how to wear it to each person who purchased some. i am not opposed to people smelling lightly of fragrance, what i am opposed to are the people who feel as if it is just as good as the deodorant that they forgot to put on or the soap they forgot to use. i hate to be walking down the street minding my own business and be accosted by a smell so horrific that my eyes start to weep. and btw, boy smell (yes AFTER a shower) is a way better smell than any cologne could ever be.
• Powdered Creamers - should there ever be a need to use a miniblender to get something to dissolve into my hot coffee? i think not.
• Small Wooden Student Chairs - you remember those torture devices ... the ones with the 2 bolts facing your back, the bolt that inevitably when you sat up, 50 hairs would be wrapped around the vile things? i think i may still have a bald spot from the 2nd grade.
• Beets - i refuse to eat anything that dyes anything else near it bright purple.
• Cheap Giveaway/Marketing items - now i am not saying that every company needs to spend a fortune giving away things that people would actually USE ... but, who in the hell uses all those pens/keychains/letter openers/post-it notes/mouse pads/yo-yos/stress ball/golf shirts that millions of companies give away at trade shows? being someone who has been to tons of these (both as the trade show-ee and the trade show-er) i can tell you, less than 20% use ANY of these items. sure, they come by, sure they get all excited and take everything you have to offer, but that is only because we have them in a place that has no windows and is pumping in extra oxygen. they don't want them, they feel compelled to take them ... and then later when you are closing down your booth, you can look into the trash bins outside the main hall and see how almost ALL of the items that were given out - not just at your booth but at EVERYONE'S booth has been thrown away. who in their right mind wants to cart all of this stuff back onto an airplane? you want me to keep your items, do me and yourself a favor - ship them to my work address - it will be cheaper for you and less hassle for me.
• Television - i do NOT have it ... i mean i have a television, but i do not have cable, satellite or any other contraption that enables someone to actually watch the stupidity that is on it. my tv is a vessel from which i watch movies. no, not all of the movies are intellectual, some are down right moronic, BUT they are ones i pick and i do not watch them over and over (well not ALL of them).

this is all i can think of right now, i am sure this will be a never-ending list that will be added to on a daily basis. but i really need to get to work now - otherwise, why the hell did i wake up this morning? it sure as hell wasn't for the coffee.

Just to make me feel better today

http://www.fuckthesouth.com/

what would the Indians do?

i am no longer having thoughts of leaving ... well not in any concrete and final way. i know that i must keep my head on straight. i know that i must teach my children that no matter what, you must try and keep on trying until your dying breath. the faith that i hold so dear to me, the faith in humanity, will prove itself once again, i know it. i just have to believe and hope that nothing happens in the meantime to hurl someone over the edge enough to do something drastic. i hope the world in its' entirety will forgive us for what we have done. that they know that it isn't the people of america as a whole that have forgotten our place among humanity.

on another lovely note (or just to show you where my head is at), i just read a report on cnn.com about the arctic facing a rapid global warming http://www.cnn.com/2004/TECH/science/11/08/globalwarming.reut/index.html , i am afraid. not that i will be here to see any of this destruction in 100 years, but my grandchildren will be . it's not fair.

now i'm not going to go off on some rant about how the republican party is to blame for the demise of the polar bears ... no, i believe we are all responsible for that. but i do believe that some of the born again types have gotten it into their thick skulls that their god has placed everything on this earth for human consumption.

as my grandfather, a born again preacher, used to state to me regularly early on in my childhood: "God made everything on Earth for Man. Things will never run out that we need. Man is the supreme being on Earth and God, in His Divine wisdom, has decreed that we can use all that we want without worry. So don't worry about environmental causes because we are fine. God will provide."

as antiquated and completely bogus as those claims were, you have to admire a man who really believed so whole-heartedly in the raping of the earth as being "God's Will". especially from a man who was about 50% Blackfoot Indian. i never understood my grandfather, and he never understood his short haired, pierced, pants-wearing eldest granddaughter, but we didn't fight half as often as it seems we should have. he would rant in spanish, i would turn a deaf ear and, somehow, we got along. i was sad when he died at the young age of 77, but i was delighted that he lived over a year longer than the doctors predicted. he was stubborn that way.

i'd like to think that he never rectified himself between his belief in the white man's god and the Indian blood running through his veins, but that would be a lie. my grandfather was a white man who spoke spanish and preached to an all Mexican parish. he was a white man in a brown man's skin. my grandfather was a recovering drug addict and alcoholic. i know that his crutch was his god and that helped him to be a father to his 5 children and a husband to his wife of 56 years. before he was born-again he was a gangster, a hoodlum. he had been in jail and he was fully sleeved. i never once saw these tattoos until right before he died, when the hospital made him put on the hospital gown. they were faded and poorly done, but i never realized before that moment that he had had another life before us, it was a very powerful realization.

my grandfather made no excuses for who he was. he never apologized. he never wanted to understand anyone else's point of view. my grandfather had each republican president's picture up in his house framed in the spot on the wall between his grandchildren. my grandfather was everything that i was not.

yet, i loved him. in his crazy (to me) ways, he also helped people. i was never so proud nor surprised as i was at his funeral. when hordes of people came up to the family (the 4 eldest grandchildren were at the front of the receiving line) each wanting to touch and shake hands with us. to tell us in their broken english what Lupe had meant to them. there were at least a hundred. all Mexican, all poor, all full of hope and despair; for what were they to do with their lives now? my grandfather gave them purpose, he scheduled visits to their sister church in Mexico twice a year to help with tasks that the city was too poor to do themselves. all of the boy grandchildren and the sons had gone at least twice each to help, but only because my grandfather threatened with eternal damnation; his parishioners had gone of their own free will. together they had built plaza's, plumbing systems, houses. it was amazing.

although most were Mexican, not all of the mourners were. we had 3 prison guards who stood at the back the entire ceremony. after everyone had gone through the line, they came up to us to tell us thank you. they sent the love and support of all of the prisoners that my grandfather visited each and every saturday and sunday. they wanted to tell us that my grandfather had, up until 1 week before he passed away, driven to the prison each weekend and counseled the young and troubled. he gave them hope, but didn't give them a pass. he told them of redemption and of forgiveness, but never once told them that it was easy. he didn't tell them that God forgave all, but that he believed in them. he gave them understanding because he had been there.

because of that day i was able to live in peace with his memory and legacy. i had always thought that because we were so different, that because i dreaded each time i would have to go see him because of what he would pick on me for, that i would never love him. i realized that i could love him, and not understand him. i realized that even though we both had different views on the world that we could coexist because we were both doing good in our own ways. one no less than the other.

and when i start to get angry about this past election all i have to do is try to remember my grandfather. how he infuriated me, incited me, disgusted me ... but how i loved him for all of the good that he was. i have to remember that everyone is entitled to their own opinions as long as they are putting good out into the world and not hurting anyone.

i have to remember that he had his own internal battle between what was born into him and what had saved him from that blood. i have to remember that my way of coming to my conclusions of life are not the only way.

and to that, i will try to remain true ... for my grandfather.

My country tis of … them?

I have been comically stating that I would move if bush was reelected … move out of the country … leave my home, my friends, my identity thus far … because of an outcome that I thought improbable.

Now, as I sit and try to regroup, the thought that should still seem laughable is actually relevant. Could I leave everything behind? Could I start fresh and feel good about it? I am torn between the feeling of disassociation with my motherland and the guilt that I have for having no sense of loyalty to it.

As we were watching the results come in last night; me & *d* in one place, matt in another, on the phone frantically cussing out the stupidity that was being shown to us; matt & I started talking about the move that we had been joking about. He had some interesting points (as he usually does).

Is one man more important than my country? Or is my country more important than one man?

I would normally have stated that no man is bigger nor more important than my country and all of the people who live within it, but this election has proven that theory empty to me. The election has proven that our country is this man. That we, as a country, have gotten what we wanted and what we deserve.

So is my country big enough to realize that certain things that I find fundamentally right, to be sacred? Do they think that human rights should be held up before any sort of religious ones? Are the rights of millions of females, some not even born yet, being subverted because of what one man/country has decided is morally the right path? Will our sex lives become public in hopes that we can eliminate any sort of objectionable behavior that may or may not be ok’d by one group of people?

Because I do not have these answers nor do I even profess to be CLOSE to being able to find these answers, the beckoning of another country sounds ever more comforting.

I have ties to different spots through family. I could easily move to 2 different countries and gain citizenship fairly easily. But, am I just exchanging one problem for another? Am I just running away from problems that I told myself long ago that I wouldn’t run from? That I would fight til my dying breath to make certain that the things I believe in will never be taken from someone.

Please don’t get me wrong, I do love my country. I love all that we have come from, the adversary, the oppression, the ignorance. But I love my rights, my children’s’ rights, my grandchildren’s’ rights, etc, more.

Yesterday made me feel like running away … today might hold something else.

But just in case, I need more winter coats.

my right to choose

i am flushed and feverish. i feel full of energy and exhausted at the same time. my head spins and my breath catches in my throat. i am slick with a film of sweat that covers my body. i can hear the hushed tones around me.

i have voted and i feel alive.