The Clock is Ticking

I think I'm supposed to be upset by this. But I just can't bring myself to do it.
Jessica Simpson ordered to be quiet

As an educator, this disturbs me.
Fired TSU president still teaching at school
Still teaching ACCOUNTING, even.

Um..this is so vastly important to things like running a city, huh?
NYC mayor backs Shakira for best video

Thank God Washington thinks this is just a diversion.
Iran president challenges Bush to debate

This just warms my librarian heart.
'Challenged' books drop to all time low

Seems to me that this is an attack on the cultural heritage. Or maybe I'm just to wired tonight.
Warsaw mermaid has chest covered for Miss World

Damn the luck.
Man shot in robbery turns from hero to prisoner

Good for them.
128 students suspended in Ind. school

Note to self: make sure my husband knows how to find the hospital.
Women gives birth while stuck in traffic

So yesterday, I spent the afternoon with The Man. YAY! It occurred to me I'd never laid eyes on him before 5 o'clock. Kinda weird. After 7 weeks of knowing him, and I'd never laid eyes on him during the day. So, what'd we do with our rare Saturday afternoon? Ate lunch and took a nap.

I know, I know..we're wild and crazy people. Someone should stop us before we hurt ourselves.


Anyway, we're sitting there, watching swimming something or other races (are they called races?). A woman from Australia won and apparently set a world record in the event. Or very nearly. The Man posed an interesting question.

What's going to happen when we can't set any new world records?

Well, something along those lines. We talked about it. You know, at some point, people aren't going to be able to be any better/faster/bigger than whoever set the last record. Not without enhancements, anyway. And wouldn't that somehow miss the point?

The human drive to be "the best" escapes me. To a point, I want to be "the best," but really only at being me (hmm..pardon me while I channel a self-help book for a minute). I don't have any desire to be better at anyone or everyone at anything. At least not in the things that don't really count, to me at least. Like swimming or walking on water or bubble blowing.

What would I like to earn the world record in? Why..I'm glad you asked...

• Being a daughter to my parents, a sister to my brother.
• Loving the WonderDog.
• Sitting still and enjoying silence.
• Being happy with who I am.
• Dealing with my 30th birthday. (geez..I'd also like that thought to stop hurting)
• Being there for my friends.
• Loving unabashedly, transparent and unashamed.

Hm...this post went down a different path than I thought it would. That's okay.

Music is essential in my life. A song brings back everything--memories, perspective, smiles, pain. When asked if I'd rather give up my sight or my hearing (if I had to choose), I pick sight every time. I know I could get by, and though it would hurt to not physically see the people I love, I think I'd be driven insane if I couldn't hear music. Oh, and the voices of the people I love, of course.

That's why I love music ring tones. I like having a fun thought of the person attached to the ringer when he or she calls. For my mother, I hear Merle Haggard's "Mama Tried." It used to be Ozzy's "Mama, I'm ComingHome." Teehee...my mother finds Ozzy deplorable.

For The Man, I have Christina Aguilera's new one "Ain't No Other Man." Early last Saturday, he sent me a text. I woke to his song, crying before I registered I was awake. It was the first time in just over a week he'd contacted me. I'd thought he was gone and I'd been sick with hurting. When the music started, my heart caught and I couldn't pick up the phone.

Phone rings--rockin' beat
wakes me, brings on tears. Release.
Sobbing, but hope springs.

You couldn't know. 'Ain't
no other man' hurt like you.
Better loving, now.

We're better now..still testing waters, tasting at love. But it's so much better this week.


The prompt this week for One Deep Breath was about the sound of music. Read more offerings here.

Hi. My name is Jayne, and I'm afraid of the dark.

Really. This isn't just a matter of not being all that comfortable in dark spaces. It's a fear.

I have night lights in my bedroom. And a small lamp that's on all night.

I can't sleep if the closet or bathroom door is open.

I never, ever, get into or out of my bed when the lights are off. Even then, I tend to avoid the space under the bed.

When I do crawl in bed, there are rules: 1) Sleep only happens in the middle of the bed. 2)My ears must be covered. 3) At no point should any of my body not be on the bed.

There are flashlights and candles within easy reach in every room of my apartment.

I guess, thinking about it now, it's really a fear of being alone in the dark. If someone else is around, I'm better. Not nearly as bothered by it. If curled up with The Man, I'll even sleep in the pitch black of his bedroom. If I were alone in his room, I wouldn't sleep at all.

I don't remember it being this bad after I was about 8. I've never particularly liked the dark, but I was no more uneasy than any other normal person. But I dealt.

Then, when I was 20, the only time in my life I can't recall anything about happened. I won't go into the details, because frankly I don't know them. I know what happened because of what I was told and dealt with later, but the specifics of the actual event are encapsulated in my memory. Completely walled off from the rest of my conscious mind. When I try to recall that time, there's a hole. I liken it to blacking out. Time passes, you might even be involved in the activities, but you register nothing.

So, for me, being afraid of the dark is a manifestation of my fears of that time. I know what happened that night, but only from what others told me. I have no working knowledge or memory of my own. It's a dark space in my mind. It's my monster in the corner.


Visit Sunday Scribblings for more offerings about monsters.

I wrote this earlier in the summer, when I looked at my summer schedule and realized I had exactly 11 days I hadn't scheduled anything on. For those of you that don't know, I'm a public school librarian. I'm not required to work all summer long, or even into the summer. Until this year, I did make it a point to go in every couple of weeks and sort the mail (which piles high in a week's time). This summer, I taught 2 sessions of summer school speech, went on a trip for church, visited the various and sundry doctors, and was at school quite a few days going over the renovation work in my library. I'd actually scheduled away my whole summer break.

Tick....tick....tick.....
goes the clock.
Ain't there supposed to be a 'tock' somewhere?
Seems like I learned that once
before.
But who has time to listen for it?

My other blog is "The Clock is Ticking." I tell people that I don't mean that clock--the one my mother claims should be getting louder for me by now. And really, I don't. I mean time is passing. And I've been letting it race by while I've packed my days. "Downtime is wasted time."

It's only been in the six weeks or so that I've been selfish with my time. I blame it on The Man (who, if you're following our story--which I'll admit I don't keep updated well--is back in the picture. Thank God.). Never before have I found myself sitting still, when I knew I had other things that needed doing.

I catch myself listening for the tock.

For other thoughts and ideas on the idea of time, visit Poetry Thursday.

This never happens to me...

More people should address me this way


BTW...this whole blog rocks.

For those of you who know me....what do you think? Is this accurate?

What Your Soul Really Looks Like

You are very passionate and quite temperamental. While you can be moody, you always crave comfort. You are a grounded person, but you also leave room for imagination and dreams. You feet may be on the ground, but you're head is in the clouds. You believe that people see you for how you are, not how you look. But deep down, you know that's not exactly true. Your near future is still unknown, and a little scary. You'll get through wild times - and you'll textually enjoy it. For you, love is all about caring and comfort. You couldn't fall in love with someone you didn't trust.

Hmm...I don't know how much I like that particular title. It just feels to me like my writing is always in the rough. My words come at me in a wild attack. Sometimes they hurt---like the utterly angry things I wrote this weekend about The Man (note to self--screw men. No, really, screw 'em all. Who the hell needs 'em?). Sometimes, they bowl me over in a rush of love and laughter, like when The WonderDog barrels down the stairs into my arms. On the rarest of occasions, they whisper-step up to me and calm me. I love words.

Over at Poetry Thursday, the prompt this week is whatever you want. I've never liked open-ended assignments. Even when it comes to writing. Give me some guidelines--a page, theme, single word or idea I'm supposed to state or allude to...HELP! Don't just throw me to the wolves---um...out into the wild. Hm.

But here is what I want to share. My new friend Jason is quickly becoming one of my favorite people. He's even stepped up the last few days and given me an ear, a shoulder...whatever. A few weeks ago he shared some of his writing with me. One of them sent images to attack me. The opening lines are:

Clutching the broken fragments of glass
I bleed through my scattered faces

I could see it. The whole poem, stretched out in a black and white photograph before me. I loved it. The image I had in my head took my breath away, captured so many things. I wrote and told him he needed to illustrate some of his poetry with his original photographs (which are beautiful). I do wish he would.

I've requested permission to share the whole poem, should he give it, I'll update this post. It's...ugh...amazing.

UPDATE: Mere minutes after the initial posting of this, permission came through. Bless you, Jason.

(no title)

Clutching the broken fragments of glass
I bleed through my scattered faces
a handful of eyes looking back at me -
more imposing than the pair I so recently destroyed.
It was a weakness, a panic,
a fear of my own self-worth.
I could have turned out the light
or simply walked away, but
I stayed to fight.
I chose to kill,
and now my reflection
sits back and laughs
as I soak in defeat.

Hm...playing today with a haiku prompt at One Deep Breath. This week, it's "Coffee & Tea."


Warmth and peace, steeping
in a quiet cup at home.
Recharge, refresh...aaaah.

I should have thought to do this for my dad. Darn the luck.

So, this morning on Slate I was reading I'm Gonna Keep That Gray, a column by Beth Frerking. She was explaining why she hasn't made any attempt to cover the gray hair she started finding in her late 30s. She's now 49 (I think) and completely gray, or at least mostly gray. I hope that at the point (either 49 or completely gray, whichever comes first) I will have embraced my gray hair, or at least have accepted that it's there.

Actually, I've accepted that it's there. Just like every couple of months, my hairdresser accepts my money for coloring my hair, a perfected shade of blonde highlighting (now) that the gray blends very well with. I was coloring it auburn for awhile, and while I loved the color, a single gray strand was like a beacon. So, I've gone back to being blonde. The real issue for me is that I'm, really, rather young.

I found my first gray hairs--8 of them--at 22 years old. Actually, my dad found them. They'd appeared over night when I'd broken up with my then fiance. (That's a story not worth repeating.) Obviously, they were stress-related. I quickly pulled them out, praying the old wives' tale was truly, truly a myth. You know, pull out one and 2 grow in it's place.

The next spring, a few more showed up, randomly, during my student teaching semester. After my first full year teaching, everytime I went to the hairdresser, she pointed out some. She'd get rid of them and we'd go on about our business.

Two years ago, after being unceremoniously dumped by M, and trying one last time to be with R, they started coming in a bit heavier. So I started coloring my hair. That's when I went auburn. All over. it was bold, and daring, and...wow. But like I said before, gray is definitely a beacon in auburn hair. So, in the spring this year, I let all the auburn fade out and went back to being a dark blonde, with lots of blonde highlights.

Okay..so that's the chronicle of my coloring story. I know I could save the money, and just not worry about. I'm sure I'd be one of those women who look fabulous, sexy even, gray (especially with my hairdresser's help). But one fact remains.

I'm only 29.

Yes, I'm turning 30 this year. But I've had gray hair in one volume or another for 7 years. There's quite a few to be found now. Okay, to be honest, 'quite a several.' If I let it go, honestly, I'll probably be completely gray by the time I'm 40. Damn genes--it's my understanding that's how it was for my grandmother. It's not that I'm opposed to be graying (like I'm opposed to being 30).

I think it's because I'm still single. If I were married, doing that thing, I'd probably be more willing to just deal with it. I think I've convinced myself that no man is going to want a 29 year old who looks old.

Setting aside how silly that must sound...what do you think?

Wouldn't it be nice if combatting stupidity was really this easy?

Of course, then we might not have stories like this.

Why would someone pour money into this?

This one is just plain weird.



This story..however, just makes me a little sad. And really appreciative of where I live.

Music has been a huge part of my life. It's a refuge for me, an escape, and to some extent a magic elixir. It's brought on much needed tears, and chased them away.

This week's Poetry Thursday prompt was about songs. As silly as it sounds in my head--songs really do sing to us. Rather than write about any one particular song, I thought I'd share with you the soundtrack for my life right now. (Each of these links points to the video. Sorry they're a bit convoluted. The javascript links didn't want to work.)

Rascal Flatts - Bless The Broken Road
Okay, so I've been down some rough roads the last several years. Life's very sweet these days and I'm feeling so happy and blessed. Obviously, this has a lot to do with The Man right now. We've both been down some less than stellar roads in our lives. But it's smoothing out.

Pussycat Dolls - Buttons F/ Snoop Dogg
I'm really lovin' this song right now. It's H-O-T. (geez..I just said that, huh? Ugh. I've been around high school boys too long). Honestly, though, I wish I was this brave sometimes (read "not shy"). And I wouldn't be hurt one bit if I had the body of any one of those girls.

Rob Thomas - Ever The Same
This one is about R--my closest friend the last few years. Out of necessity, our relationship has changed. I don't think either of us is very happy about it. But, we'll always be important to the other. This song reminds me of that.

Christina Aguilera - Ain't No Other Man
This the ringtone on my cell for The Man. Teehee. (Please let me know if this young love crap gets sickening)

Hoobastank - If I Were You
I'm not really sure what it is about Hoobastank's song that gets me. I really like it though. Makes me think about all the things I should be doing--like appreciating some things more.

Panic! At The Disco - I Write Sins Not Tragedies
I'm not a huge Panic fan, but I like this one. The video's fabulous, visually, but I love the line "I'd chime in with a "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the g** damn door?!" There's a life lesson if I ever heard one.

Dixie Chicks - Not Ready To Make Nice
I think the jist here for me is that I'm tired of backing down and playing along. I've not been selfish with myself often enough. I've probably pissed a few people off, but oh well.

LeAnn Rimes - Something's Gotta Give
This is my life for the last couple of years. Except for the cat named Jake. *wink*

Pink - Stupid Girls
I work in a high school. It's not the girls who have good heads on their shoulders that worry me. It's the "stupid" ones.

Nickelback - Far Away
Warm fuzzies

Switchfoot - Stars
In this whole 'discovering' myself phase I'm in, this song reminds me of my place in the mystery of the world.

Gretchen Wilson - California Girls
Remember, it's okay to be yourself. Especially if that self is a little bit redneck. *wink*

For more Poetry Thursday offerings this week, click here.