My Moon

As I stood outside, the gentle cool breeze sent goose-bumps up my arms, making hair rise on the back of my neck, a sweet-spot for him, he knew it would force me to look up...I couldn't help notice the Moon and how colossal he was in his immense opulent sky. He kept giving chase through the trees, surely the braggart he was, he enjoyed showing me just how brilliant his light could unfailingly be...

...as a child (3 yrs old) I truly believed and loved the idea that the Moon was in love with me. I'd get up out of bed, even risking a spanking, just to see him there gazing upon me. He was always peaking out from the corners of trees, buildings and from behind clouds, so shy but so grand and exquisite all lonely up in his sky. I would imagine he'd whisper to the stars his delight with how his light could make my skin glow. How powerful he must be to be so far away and yet still able to delicately touch my skin.

My secret love affair with the Moon has only blossomed and evolved as I've become a woman. Forever busy, but never, not once forgetting his devotion to me. I cherish the nights that he is full and bloated with his love and passion for me, beckoning for me in his tremendous sky. Only he could understand me, for how unique he was - so lonely, always wanting, always searching for someone like him. My obsession for him, my Moon coerced me to learn of his friends - the stars and planets, to become educated in his movement, to observe him affecting the tides and water.

The stars and sky would thank him, twinkling in his generous light. How everyone around him would bask in his glory while he'd radiate so magnificently in his sky. Once a year he would be called the Harvest Moon, when he got as close as he could to us (to me) and all those that I love. And every now and then he'd get to gleam and shimmer in a blue haze, the Blue Moon.

I wonder if he knows how many songs would be sang in his honor? Or will he ever know how many movies would give praise to his light? How many people would continue to fall in love, in the wake of his illustrious glow? Children will forever celebrate the light in the dark that he's become.  How his golden glare would be a light for sailors and those that had lost their way.  He would also be menaced and browbeaten with folklore and tales of crazy people unable to control themselves, save for the full moon. 

It has always been this way, and it will probably always be this way. But...make no mistake...

...he will always be My Moon.

Ode to Yeats

William Butler Yeats. He is one of my favorite poets. He takes me somewhere else, and nowhere at all, and everywhere at once.


"Come fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind, and dance upon the mountains like a flame."

"The worst thing about some men, is that when they are not drunk they are sober."

"Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire."

"A pity beyond all telling is hid in the heart of love."

"Life is a long preparation for something that never happens."

"Wine comes in at the mouth, and Love comes in at the eye; That's all we shall know for Truth before we grow old and die."

"How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old is my heart."

"I carry the Sun in a golden cup, the Moon in a silver bag."

"Think like a wise man, but communicate in the language of the people."

"A deep-sworn vow others because you did not keep that deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine. Yet always when I look death in the face, when I clamber to the heights of sleep, or when I grow excited with wine, suddenly I meet your face."

"The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity."

"The Mermaid
A mermaid found a swimming lad,
Picked him for her own,
Pressed her body to his body,
Laughed; And plunging down
Forgot in cruel happiness
That even lovers drown."

"The world is full of magic things, waiting for our senses to grow sharper."

"Oh, love is the crooked thing. There is nobody wise enough to find out all that is in it, for he will be thinking about love til the stars run away and the shadows eaten the moon."

"To love beauty is to see light.":

"Any fool can fight a winning battle, but it needs character to fight a losing one, and that should inspire us; Which reminds me that I dreamed the other night that I was being hanged, but was the life and soul of the party."

"How can we know the dancer from the dance."

"Take, if you must this little bag of dreams, unloose the cord and they will wrap you round."

"The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy, but time."

"Words are always getting conventionalized to some secondary meaning. It is one of the works of poetry to take the truants in custody and bring them back to their right senses."

Eternally Grateful

I like to count my blessings daily, to put things in perspective, to reflect on why I do certain things and how happy and grateful I am or need to be, I like to reflect on how far I've come in my life and where my priorities are or need to be? I re-evaluate my goals and dreams constantly. I look to shed worry, anxiety and negativity. I often find myself questioning my choices, sacrifices, loyalty, and honesty? And not just from mine but from others.
Then, in the course of reaching out - out of nowhere, the little people I've dedicated my whole life to raising and loving, my single biggest and most important priority - steal my breathe away and say something so profound and something so incredibly beautiful it touches the depths of my soul, my heart bursts and my eyes fill with tears of joy. It replenishes and renews my faith and reminds me just why I did all the things I did and why I still do them. Nothing else seems to matter! Just those imperfect, perfect little people I love with every fiber of my being. They love me as I am, unconditionally and there's nothing else anywhere that begins to compare to that (there is truly no other kind of unconditional love I've ever known, than that of parent to child, child to parent) - I find myself eternally grateful for them, they are my greatest, most sacred blessings!

And all because in one single day...

She said something, something would infinitely change the way I saw my little girl but now see a young lady - I know she's strong, stubborn, courageous and fiercely independent. I know she possesses the strength to push her further than most will ever dream. She'll never settle and she'll never take crap from anyone, as tough as she is, she's got a heart of gold, and she feels everything deeper than most people. She will be the young lady, I raised her to
be. She will follow her dreams and do everything within her power to be a light for herself and others to see through darkness.

Then, He said something, even mature grown men can't grasp the idea. I know he will be the man I raised him to be. Courageous, heroic to a fault, a protector, a guardian for all those plagued by injustice, with values and morals. He'll stand alone if he has to to defend what he believes. More importantly he will push himself to be the man we all envision him to be.

My little man has yet to show just us all just how great he will be. As he is now, he is the absolute sweetest child. He couldn't hurt a fly. He is always worried about hurting people, he may truly have the biggest heart of all. His loving ways and ability to deliver a message or say things will hopefully catapult him forward in his life. He's very much his big brother and sister, as much as he is me.

In those few moments, They free me and allow me to forgive myself for choices I had made in my life, choices I knew would directly affect them some day - ones they would either hate me for or thank me for - and just like that every sacrifice, every lesson, every time my parenting came into question - it was all for this. All for this! The greatest gift is to love and be loved - and as a parent, it's even greater!

Some thing's are far more difficult to absorb. Somewhere between heaven and hell is where you find them. Always towing the fold of black and white, and sitting (with a smile) on a fence somewhere like a cat.

Understanding that the subject matter I'm about to chew and churn on, may incite some resentment, still I am forging ahead with angst and the greatest of intentions to pen my thoughts. This is after-all, my blog. Albeit neglected and ignored.

I grew up in a strict, stern home. I have four brothers, all boys, not one sister. My Father is ex-Army Ranger, militant by and through all facets and means of his life. Structure, routine and regiment were and are still expected. My brothers and I never fail to disappoint. My Mother, was exactly what my Dad needed. A dictator of her own sheer force and will, do not let her size fool you she was larger than life and still rules with the iron fist entrusted to her by my Father. Both my parents worked, and worked hard, so we often found ourselves under the watchful eye of my grandparents or Mrs. Whaley (the youngest brother's Nanny). That is when we weren't spending three nights a week at church.

Make no mistake I mean no disrespect to my parents. They weren't perfect, they did their absolute best. They were and are good people. Better I dare say than my brothers and I turned out to be. Besides, wasn't everyone's childhood or family dysfunctional in some way? My parents would be aggrieved, haunted even, that I could take such brilliant refined characteristics bestowed on me, suppress them and corrupt them to my own creation. Even retarding them into almost a mockery. It must leave the copper taste of blood in their mouths. This is not out of orneriness, it is simply me being me. I know I make them proud with certain aspects of my life, morals, values and general life compass, but I also know I drive them bat-shit crazy and somehow that offers a great deal of comfort.

I digress, as I often do. I'm not here to discuss my parents, not really. Or my more formidable years when my conscience was obviously of significantly more crushing weight than it is now. I still believe I have a moral compass, I just lack faith in society, and not just as a whole, but in bits and pieces. Any way my politics are inconsequential, as well.

My Father to this day, still respects and admires my Mother. She is fiercely independent, and I do mean fiercely. While my Mom cooked, clean, disciplined and worked, so did my Father. They believed each of them had to contribute as much as the other, despite the traditional or old fashioned ideals they were raised with individually. This is something I have always admired about my parents. They may drive each other insane, but there is never a loss for love, respect or admiration for what they each have to offer the other or the world. It's not often you find a man comfortable with a woman that independent and not intimidated or emasculated by such a strong woman. My Father adores my Mother, to this day.

Being the only girl, I am a Daddy's girl, I hold my Father in the highest regard. Lucky for me, I have an amazing Dad. A true gentleman, a protector, a jack of all trades, I do believe my Dad can do absolutely anything. This is where it's grossly unfair to men that may have affection for me. (putting my sons, aside) Living in my Father's shadow is not easy. He is truly a great, great man. He is the Most Interesting Man Alive. And he is my measuring stick for all other men. Sure it's not fair, but it is what it is.

After a lot of circle jerking here, let me get to my point. I struggle with the reverence and admiration held for independent thinking men, versus the trepidation and consternation for an independent thinking woman. I am no feminist, I know the sexes are not equal. I would never seek to emasculate a man, nor would I want a man to feel less than or intimidated because I like to think for myself. I'd rather bring as much to the table. Beauty fades and I'm not interested in seeing what I can get from a man. A union between two people should be joining of forces, each should have skills or talents or qualities that complement the other. We as women should not be allow to slowly bleed a man to the point of resentment. Some relationships fail and others succeed. We were not meant to be wholly monogamous. We choose to be. I want someone to add benefit to my life, not take away from theirs in the hopes of filling some void in my own life, because I didn't push myself to my potential.

The idea of 'happy wife, happy life' is one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard. It may work for some people, but the idea behind it is bone-chilling. It's emasculating to men and condescending. The idea that women hold the key to happiness in a marriage must've come from someone incredibly ignorant or very confused. Happiness isn't tangible, it doesn't come from material things, it doesn't come from sex. Happiness is a feeling. It's existing in a moment. Its the here and now. Not tomorrow. It's not later today, its how you feel and what you take from those feelings and those moments. The euphoria you feel post-coital or how you can't stop smiling because someone made you almost pee your pants from a joke. Or the picture your child drew that has people mesmerized by their abilities. Maybe because out of nowhere someone tells you just how great you make them feel. Those things are where I find my happiness. I recognize everyone seeks to gratify their own wants.

I suppose what I'm getting at is, are men and women admired and respected for independent thinking in the same way? Are men and women even remotely equal on this forum? If not, what makes each sex different. If so - give me examples, as I really want to have an understanding. I'd like to see all perspectives. Not removing my own personal experience, I would answer with a finite No.

I'd love to be wrong here.

Send in the clowns...

Few things shock me. I may have been absent or maybe I just skipped school that day. Oh wait, it's possible I may have been choking on my own bile and coughing so hard and loud I didn't hear my guidance counselor mention it. I mean can you imagine, all the marvelous things I could aspire to be.

I never really understood clowns. I did dress up as a clown once, for Halloween, unrecognizable to my own family. My own mother shut the door in my stupid clown face when trick or treating with my son in my arms. And we all know how terrifying clowns can be!! I watched Dumbo enough times with my younger brother to have the movie memorized, even now some 35 years later. I never liked the clowns. I thought they were stupid and goofy and uneducated and ridiculous. Maybe that was the point, but I never understood it. Bottom line, they're creepy. Creepy as all move bitch get out the way, I'm running for my life, AND I will never hire one for a child's party. I've seen too many terrified children and adults when faced by some creepy clown. Yes, even the ones some people think look cute. It's just creepy, man. I digress.

Did you know there was a school for clowns, some sort of legit clown college that people are stupid enough to actually pay thousands of dollars to get a clown education. But wait, there's more. There are also conventions and get together's and real creepy clown camaraderie where they all meet and pay homage to John Wayne Gacey. (I actually don't know if that part is true or not), but John Wayne Gacey is one of the most infamous serial killers of all time. All I know is, I'm not about to start emulating him.

So in closing, send in the clowns, because only a clown would pay for a clown education at a clown college.

*I don't really care if clowns everywhere are offended by this blog, in fact, I hope they are offended, because I find clowns offensive*

Hail the rapids...

I return to you, dear friend. Truth is, we share some pretty amazing moments. Unlike most people, I am comfortable here. Relying on you, knowing you won't let me down. Problem is I keep forgetting you're here.

Until that moment when I've flipped the raft in daunting white rapids and I'm drowning hoping to catch another breath before I go back under and praying I feel a hand reaching for my own. Alas, the hand I sometimes feel too often can't hold on to me or just decides to let go. As I get pushed further and farther under, giant rocks are appear everywhere. Some close enough to grab but too smooth to hold onto, some I nearly crash into that are sharp and blunt, so it rips through my skin and bruises my body. I just have to keep holding my breath, waiting for the troubled waters to return me to the surface where I can gasp for air and try to swim to safety on my own. Eventually, the troubled waters calm down and I manage to stay afloat. I'm exhausted, but now I'm treading water and breathing, it's all going to be okay. I've been here before. Maybe not the same river, maybe not the same rocks, maybe not the same current, but I've been here. I see the shoreline, just a little further is all that is left. I can make it. I can make it, but this time I'm going to be better prepared for the rapids. I'll wear a life vest. I'll master this fucking river or die trying. You don't know me. If you did, you'd know better. If I hadn't been flipped out that boat by that huge rock and I was the one on safe grounds, I would never have let go of your hand or I would've ridden the rapids with you, so you wouldn't have been alone.

I don't know how often I actually think of writing, but it's certainly not as often as I'd like. You could say it was laziness, or maybe being overwhelmed. I make no apologies for my life. I live it day by day and that evidently aggravates a wealth of busy bodies. I don't care. I'm tired of having to explain myself or validate my choices. It's my life. At least I'm living it!

It's been a while, since I could lift my head up high. Honestly, quoting a song - does me no justice. COnsidering some of the life experiences thrown my way - I'm usually much more resilient, but I attribute this one to sheer exhaustion. To admit this weakness, one might think I'm weak. Strangely, if you've ever met or know me - you know different. My ego and wallet have taken some major hits. I'm finally starting to feel like I can almost see the glassy surface of the water above. And, that is progress! I'll refrain from giving the tiresome boring details.

I will pen a few thoughts, as I feel it healthy and needed. I am simply thinking out loud. If I hurt anyone's feelings, so be it. My goal isn't about tip toeing around anyone else's feelings, but to help myself. Misunderstood, but who isn't?! Far too often, I find that I help and/or give of myself so much, that I ask for nothing or very little in return. It is my understanding that because my heart is so big and because I am often willing to be so giving, that I place no value or very little value on myself. People tend to take advantage of my generosity. Traditionally, this would be referred to as making myself a rug. I've often been asked why I'm always so ready to pick up my sword to defend myself. Strangely, this would be after a anger fueled argument or heated discussion that has resulted from my being tired of being said rug.

I find that many people (myself included) have a propensity to project our fears and suspicions on each other. We carry so much weight from the negativity, that often the glass doesn't even appear half empty. We sometimes don't even see the glass. Why do we have such an initial reaction with negativity. Have we begun to lose hope, have we all become pessimists? Finding ten minutes out of my day every day to be thankful for what I have, helps me. I start to realize that a lot of the things I think I need are really just material things I want. Material stuff never made me happy. But knowing I have a job, when so many are unemployed, or a place to live, when so many are homeless, or having my parents around that drive me crazy, when so many feel orphaned as their parents have passed away, or that my kids are healthy and can laugh, instead of wondering when their next meal might be. The simple things that we all forget. We become so consumed by our own lives and goals that we forget how to live, we forget our friends or our family. Quality over quantity. Still it's so easy to fall into the rut the masses follow, to become one of the sheep being led, instead of the shephard or leading others. I don't want to be like anyone else, and I think I can say comfortably, I'm not like anyone else. I want to wear a label, I don't need to and it isn't going to make me anything different than who I already am.

I also learned that standing up to the same people that say this are typically the very offenders and are shocked or beside themselves when I ultimately lash out. I would agree that perhaps my approach or style in choosing my battles has not lent itself to a worry-free life, but I was able to get what I had to say out. Whether or not it was heard, in some cases still remains to be seen.