The Clock is Ticking

Alright, I know I've been gone awhile, again. I'll make my excuses now..because it's my blog and I can do it. (Normally, I wouldn't try to make the excuses, but oh well.)

The longterm obstacle has been my insomnia. It's just been awful. Two or three hours a night, if that. On the rare occasion, four hours. And I do mean rare. Now I've never slept through the night, anyway. I've always woken up at least once and been totally awake for 15-30 minutes and then gone back to sleep. My insomnia has been worse in the last year or so. I now know that a lot of it had to do with some medical issues that are finally being discovered and dealt with. So...it should start getting better.

BREAKING NEWS!!!!!

I SLEPT ALL THE WAY THROUGH THE NIGHT LAST NIGHT. I didn't wake up once..not even at 3 a.m. like I have for as long as I can remember.

It's utterly amazing to me. Those "8 hours" everyone talks about? Yeah, I know what that feels like now. I never have before. I can't remember ever sleeping through the night.

Okay...what else? I know there are more excuses.
Anyway, I'm not going to promise to be good and write regularly, but I'll promise to try. (No Yoda comments please.)

Okay..go read this post at As If!

My personal choices and beliefs aside, the story concerns me. I'm not concerned about those students who are standing up for their rights (you know, those inalienable ones).

No, I'm concerned about those students who will walk away feeling like second-class individuals, or heck, just sub-human because they don't fit a lawmakers concept of "the norm."

It's what I'm listening to here at work, too. I've had quite enough of the intolerant talks being had outside my office door. No, they aren't about me, or even specific people. Just general talks. By someone who should know better than to be so damned intolerant.

A literary description of or commentary on a visual work of art.

Hehe..this'll be fun. I immediately thought of this piece. Frankly, it's bothered me for years and years.

And so...here's what I think, after God knows how many years of existence, the red dot has to say.

Yes, I'm a dot.
Yes, I'm aware that I'm a big, red dot.
No, I don't "mean" anything.
Well, not really.
But I'm sure you've read some sort of
"deep, inner meaning"
in my roundness.
No, I don't want to know what it is.

Hehe...I had too much fun with this!

**Fire a volunteer (when you really need the warm body)?

**Tell someone that you think she's being a bigot and is teaching impressionable young minds to be bigots too?

Forget the volunteer bit. There's little that can really be done about that.

But the bigot thing. I just had to listen to a conversation about "Straight Pride Parades" and "White History Month."

I think I wore him out. He hasn't moved in 3 hours.

Hm...where does my inspiration come from?

I've written so many times about the way words affect me (here and here), my thoughts on just poetry in general.

But where does my inspiration come from? That's so much harder.

I take pictures a lot..my camera's almost always handy and I think the most fabulous gift I ever bought myself is my camera phone (and then I learned how to blog via my phone. Ain't I spiffy?). I rarely share the pictures I take, but I just look back at them and smells and feelings and words come right up (there goes that synaesthesia again).

Sometimes I'll hear a word or phrase and I'm just done in. I used to carry little bits of paper with me all the time. Now I text the phrases to my email address.

I'm a rehearser. I rehearse the important (and goofy...and sexy...and duurrrrty) conversations I want to have with The Man. (It makes me glad I run with an MP3 player strapped to me, people think I'm just singing along.) Sometimes I'll say something--or feed the words I want him to say--and it'll spark something else.

And sometimes I'll hit the prompt for Sunday Scribblings, or Poetry Thursday, and sometimes even One Deep Breath and I can't help but write.

When it hits, it's different every time. Some days, I have to stop everything and go with it. Other times, it marinates for a long while. I can always tell when I'm going to have to stop and focus on the word--my (self-diagnosed) A.D.D. gets so much worse. I've just got no chance of focusing on anything else. None.

For other thoughts on inspiration, check out Sunday Scribblings this week.

Just roaming around the internet this afternoon, while waiting on the Nascar race to start.

First, Visual Personality DNA... Here's mine...


Check out yours. I'm not certain mine's exactly right, but it's interesting.

Then, of course, being a Nascar fan, I ran across The Church of the Great Oval. Odd little site. A mix of just general Nascar commentary, and the driver's astrological forecasts for race day. Ok, sure. But it is fun to read.

Youths probed for daubing swastikas on sheep
Okay, so we're worried about why the kids behaved this way toward the good-natured sheep. What about just painting swastikas? I mean, yes, it can result in fines or prison time in Germany, but how about why swastikas???


I noticed something this week. Actually, I've noticed it before, but I'm mentioning it now. Because I have a small mouth (jokes ahead aside, my friends), I use a youth-size toothbrush. Okay, a child -sized toothbrush. I can't find one anywhere that doesn't have cartoon characters on it. There's not just a plain old toothbrush. I had, finally, found one without characters on it, but it's got a blinking light in the bottom but they were out this week. Certainly makes The Man's daughter laugh at me.

I find it really embarassing to stand in the lane at Wal-Mart at 30 years old trying to decide between Dora and Strawberry Shortcake.


What's the smell? Oh, it's the police
Um. Okay.

They could make it realistic, though...donut smell.

One question...why can't he just be a well-socialized cat?

Mama cat adopts Rottweiler puppy

I mean, doghood can't be all it's cracked up to be.

Okay, a few weeks ago, I wrote about my clock and a case of the "I want ones."

Well, they passed. Quickly, in fact. Well, they started fading before I wrote that post, and were pretty much gone by the end of the day after hitting the publish button.

I've always wavered about wanting children. Well, wanting my own children. I've gone from naming my future babies to shying away from babies in general--related or not. I've thought about adopting older kids--which is certainly something to consider if that's what God has in store for me and my one-day husband. But I've never imagined myself pregnant, giving birth (though I do know that if that ever happens, I am not one of those women who want a natural birth. Give me drugs, in quantity, please.). I've never looked at my friends who have new babies and wanted that part.

Babies don't scare me, any more than older children scare me (now, adults, they scare me). I've babysat, kept my friends kids, and goo-gooed and gah-gahed with the best of them. I've just never felt that pull for longer than a little while.

I'm perfectly happy being Aunt Jayne and would be the most devoted of step-mothers if that's how things happen. I know a couple of kids I'd love to be wicked step-mother to. In that "love you to bits, miss you all the time, saw this and thought about you, can't wait to have you home with us again" kind of wicked.

But is my clock still ticking? Well, yes. But not for kids. It's more about getting on with life.

A friend sent this to me. I'm going to share it, but then I'm going to insert my own commentary.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE..one old love she can imagine going back to,and one who reminds her how far she has come..Except for those of us who want a love she'd never imagine leaving to be the one who reminds her how far she's come.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE..enough money within her control to move out and rent a place of her own even if she never wants to or needs to..Hmm, sounds like planning for the worst. I can't agree with this. For the same reasons I don't believe in prenups.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE.. something perfect to wear if the employer or date of her dreams wants to see her in an hour..And still agonize over what to wear. (I'll deny it and call you a liar if The Man ever learns of this--I change clothes at least 3 times before I settle on something to wear when I'm going to see him. Even when I'm going to his place late and wearing my pajamas. Every time.)

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE..a youth she's content to leave behind..The Man might not believe this of me..but I do have a youth I'm quite content to leave behind in favor of my present and my future.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE..a past juicy enough that she's looking forward to retelling it in her old age..Okay, so I'll share a few things, but there's some things that will never be retold.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE..a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a blacklace bra..Check...check...working on that (and not necessarily in that order).

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE...one friend who always makes her laugh.. and one who lets her cry.. Definitely.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE..a good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family..My favorite yellow chair, and my rocker.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE..eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems, and a recipe for a meal that will make her guests feel honored.. Okay, eight plates, 3 wine glasses (yes, 3), and a recipe that shows how much I love them. Oh, and seating for 4.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE..a feeling of control over her destiny.. Mostly. And that's me, personally. I mostly have that feeling. About the things that affect only me. But where The Man's concerned...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..how to fall in love without losing herself..This I do know, though it's taken a few missteps. For me, this love has been the want I want to lose myself in, but I haven't--and that's a good thing.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..how to quit a job, break up with a lover, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship. Yep, yep, yep.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..when to try harder.. and when to walk away..I've managed to not walk away when I should've, but it's the trying harder when I want to walk away that I never learned.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..that she can't change the length of her calves,the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents.. But I can make my calves look longer, hide the width of my hips, and move.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..that her childhood may not have been perfect.. but it is over..We are the SUM of our experiences, not each experience.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..what she would and wouldn't do for love or more..I believe it's called conviction.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..how to live alone.. even if she doesn't like it..Let's see, this week makes 6 years living alone, not counting the years living alone in a dorm room. For the record, I hate it.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..whom she can trust,whom she can't, and why she shouldn't take it personally.. But sometimes, you can't help but take it personally, particularly when the one you could trust suddenly becomes the one you can't.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..where to go, be it to her best friend's kitchen table,or a charming inn in the woods when her soul needs soothing..Yes, the park. His voice.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..what she can and can't accomplish in a day..a month.. and a year..One thing at a time.

EVERY WOMAN IS SPECIAL..and she should embrace that..

I AM EVERY WOMAN..and so are you! Well, some of you are! *grin*

He's been sitting there with the blank stares for 20 minutes. Hasn't moved a muscle.

From my hammock.

I've always liked the word 'puzzled.' It feels good in my mouth, but I think that's because I like z-sounds. I don't think I use it very often, but I do tend to hold those words that taste especially good in reserve, so they don't get used too often.

I spent a fair amount of time puzzled this week. It managed to leave me on edge, and feeling insecure. The insecurity kind of scared me. It showed up in overly-emotional ways with The Man. I even raised my voice to him, and started crying because I'd realized what I'd done. I don't think I've ever done it to him, and I know he's never done it to me. I'm sure my doing so and my sudden tears were more than a little puzzling to him.

Last night, it hit me. It's not that I was feeling insecure about my relationship with The Man, that's good, that's solid. It's more that I was feeling very puzzled by reactions and feelings I was having (again, see this post).

People puzzle me. Myself the most. I used to joke with a friend about it. He'd make some comment about "never understand you, woman." I'd answer with "join the club, man." Sometimes, it bothers me that I don't understand myself more. Most of the time, it's just nice to know there's still things to learn, even about myself. I'm sure it's not easy for people around me, probably hardest for The Man (he doesn't have the advantage of knowing me for years).

Anyway, this wound up being just a wander for my mind. But, I wrote--this is twice this week!

For my puzzling thoughts, visit Sunday Scribblings.

**Pardon me whilst I stretch a bit. I'm a little out of practice again. Dang it, I need to write more--well, write more here, as opposed to there. (I know, I know, that makes no sense, but it sorta does, doesn't it?)

The prompt at Poetry Thursday this week is "the body knows." What does the body know, you ask? Well, all kinds of things. This morning, it happens to know quite well that I was out until 1 this morning. Quite well.

But that's not what's on my mind. Sticking to my "theme of the year," here is what my body knows, this morning. This one's even titled, and I rarely ever do that.

Because of a look...

Beating heart ceases, briefly,
then rushes to catch back up.
Full-body flush,
the color rising just before the heat.
Twinges of dancing in my toes
My eyes go wet, not quite welling.


Hm..that felt rusty. I'll have to get back to writing/blogging on a more regular basis.

For other body-knowledge, check out Poetry Thursday.

We had an interesting discussion at the lunch table a few weeks ago. Seems yet another celebrity had done something stupid and had been assigned therapy for something thoughtless he had done. Next day, Lindsey Lohan's listed as the newest in-patient for rehab.

Now, it's Britney. After having shaved her head.

You know, I'm a little tired of this. I feel sorry for any one who's going through a rough time and has a breakdown of sorts. I really do. I've been pretty damn low myself and done some stupid, stupid things. I'm just tired of hearing about celebrities who suddenly throw themselves into anger management therapy and/or rehab. It almost seems to be an easy way out.

Don't get me wrong, I know rehab and therapy are not easy paths to take, particularly if you are really, truly serious about what you're doing while in them. It just seems to me that we're all supposed to be feeling sorry for these celebrities who go off the deep end and then check themselves into rehab. And I'm not sure I do. People every day--regular people--check into rehab or start therapy programs without all the hoopla.

Maybe it's horrible of me, but I can't help but wonder how many of these apparently newsworthy stories are publicity stunts.

This week the prompt is "Chronicles." I finally took five minutes to stop and see what the prompt was this week (I've been preoccupied as of late.). Definition #2 from Answers.com says a chronicle is a detailed narrative record or report.

Actually, it's the subject of my recent preoccupation that I've been thinking about in terms of chroncling lately. I started a list of the things that are making me smile, making me tingle, my heart swell, and my disrupting my sleep (in a good way).

I may have mentioned The Man has returned. We've been back together nearing 2 months. It was instantly more serious than we were in the fall. I'm 10 kinds of happy, and in such love. I keep wanting to write about it, but don't feel like I can do it justice. Some days, what I feel for him just overwhelms me.

So, anyway, in a rush of love one night, when I couldn't do anything else, I started listing the things about him, about our time together that make me sing. In a sense, it's a chronicle of things, a 'detailed record' of the things that define my love for him, our love for each other.

Maybe, one day I'll share it with him.

Okay, okay, so I haven't posted anything in weeks. I know this. I've been preoccupied. Blame The Man. I don't mean "The Man" that keeps you down. I mean "My Man."

So, since I know I should post, and I'm churning some ideas I'm not ready to share, I'll do a news review. Here's what's caught my eye this evening.

Toddler's temper ousts family from plane
I really don't see the problem here. Thank you, flight crew, for deciding to remove a child whose parents wouldn't enforce the rules. I may be misreading this, but it sounds like the flight was already running late. I don't know if this was because of the child, but I wouldn't be surprised.

Oh...more later.

Yep, it's official. Someone's lost her mind.

Panty Check

I have 2 favorite Christmas gifts this year. Well, 2 favorite material gifts.

First is....

New perfume from The Man. We stopped at the perfume counter a couple of weeks ago. I was trying to decide between my old scent (classic Burberry) and a new one (Burberry London). I figured, since he'd have to smell it on me, I'd get his opinion. It was not a thinly veiled hint to buy me perfume for Christmas. But he did anyway..the whole stinkin' set--shower gel and lotion, too! I love it, love it, love it.


The other is....

My espresso machine! See, I have a coffee addiction. Detailed here and here. I love coffee. I don't know how to start a day without it. I just don't.

But, the best gift? Spending time with The Man. I feel so good around him. He's an angel, and I'm blessed.

Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man. ~Benjamin Franklin

I think I've said this somewhere before...but I don't do New Year's Resolutions. I don't believe in them. I can't think of any good reason to resolve to change once a year. Yes, I know, you can decide to make changes at any point during the year, but people make such a big deal about it at New Year's.

I don't think Old Ben meant that you should start in January working yourself over to be a new man. Instead, I think when the new year starts, the idea is that you're better than you were when the last one did.

Year's end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us. ~Hal Borland

There's an old prayer, rumored to be found in the Bible of a freed slave who died in battle during the Civil War.

"Lord, I ain't what I oughta be,
And I ain't what I wanna be,
And I ain't what I gonna be.
But Lord, I thank ya,
I ain't what I was."

That's what I think about during this time of year. I honestly do sit and think about how I've grown and changed during the course of a year. And where I'm heading.

On New Year's Day, my mother will ask us to share our resolutions. She's obviously never heard..

Never tell your resolution beforehand, or it's twice as onerous a duty. ~John Selden

So, even if I did really, really make New Year's resolutions, I wouldn't share them.

All that being said, I do have a change I'm going to endeavor to make. I'm gonna stop cussing. It's really gotten to be too easy for me to let those 4-letter words slip out. I tried once before, even set myself up to put a quarter in a jar every time I said one. The idea was that once I'd gone 2 weeks without paying the jar, I could take the money and go do something fun. I made it to $4, then decided it was really stupid and did away with the cup. And kept cussing. (Should I note that the first $2.50 accrued inside of about 20 minutes?).

One last thought about resolutions and change, from dear Mr. Twain...

Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual. ~Mark Twain