Harvard…
Posted by: Becca on: December 5, 2009
I’m typing this too early in the morning considering the fact that I didn’t get home last night til 3am…but Natalie’s not here and Jason’s still in bed, so it’s my best bet for a moment to myself today…
I went and saw Harvard last night. I was wanting to explain something about this, but my brain is so damn foggy right now. Ever since the first time one of my guy friends picked up a guitar and played a line of a song for me I was hooked on hearing people I know make music.
So, through the years I try to keep track of the people I know who are making music…I always feel more creatively inspired by people I know being creative than by anything else. I was so envious last night though. Envious of musicians in general, really. Envious of the connections people have to one another, creatively as a large group…not to say I didn’t enjoy the show, because I really did. I always do. All the people in one spot right up near the stage with the music shaking everything, I love it. It’s a beautiful high.
It’s always hard for me after things like that though, to come back to the day to day. I have a really hard time with some things in my day to day right now. I feel like I can’t be everything and I just want to give into the pull…it’s just not that easy…and really, I don’t know that there’s any place for me at all.
Maybe not that so much, because there’s actually always a place, everywhere…it just seems like I choose to stand right on the edge of everything. But that’s what I choose…Like I said, it’s far to early for me to be writing coherently. I’m gonna have to follow up on this later.
I’m writing this to remind myself what I’m doing, because my head is all over the place right now. I’m being still and knowing that God is God. I’m forgetting the world. I’m following my spirit over my mind. I’m believing in the rainbow fragments and quiet rushes and solid embraces and I am not listening to the noise around me, I am being quiet to hear what’s within me. I am trusting love over all else. In case I forget…
Devil’s Advocate
Posted by: Becca on: November 28, 2009
I know an increasing amount of people arguing against the commercialization of Christmas (besides Charlie Brown, of course). And I agree. In many ways, we have turned a day set aside to celebrate the birth (and subsequent life) of Jesus Christ, earthly God incarnate, something that could (should?) be a holy day for Christians into something…else.
It’s a whole month of family gatherings, decorations, parties, programs, events, fundraisers, special church services, Santa Claus movies, and of course, gift exchanging. So, I get that. But here’s the thing- I think, if we let it, it can be good for us.
Christmas is what you make it in your life, what you let it be, what you insist it be. Being cynical, bitter, rejecting, or averse to other’s implementation of Christmas really doesn’t benefit you (or anyone else) at all. If you don’t like how other’s utilize this time of the year, then don’t engage. But think about some of the idealogic cornerstones (no matter how far many deviate from them) of the Christmas season: faith, hope, love, joy, generousity. Make those things a part of your daily life and then take a month at the end of the year to kick it up a notch and really bask in it, really celebrate it the whole month.Those around you can benefit from this and may possibly join in- and I can’t think of a better way to keep Christ in Christmas.
Who really cares about poetry?
Posted by: Becca on: November 19, 2009
I cycle through depressive states regarding writing. Regarding the point of it. I always come back to this- the point of it is for me to cope. I know that. (but it doesn’t change my moodiness about the whole thing) It is, for as long as I remember, how I cope. The person I talk to to work things out in my head is myself, through writing. It’s a big part of a lot of growth and movement personally, spiritually.
At the same time, I address all the world around me, through writing, whether they read it or not. But that’s where the depressing part comes in, particularly with poetry. No one really gives a shit about poetry, except maybe, for poets. But I don’t even really like reading other people’s poetry, so how can I think anyone wants to read mine? Maybe it’s like how some musicians can’t stomach certain “mass manufactured” music. But I am not, as an artist, a musician, so I don’t see it and can still enjoy it…
I’m digressing. The poetry thing…it’s just so pointless. Except when it’s not. When a poem is pressing it’s way out of my pores, it matters so much. But then…what? There are journals and contests and other avenues to share poems and possibly be recognized as a talented writer, but it’s so annoying because they care so much about poetic stuff and I just write. I write and write and write. And yes, I have some dedicated persons who consistently lift me up and assure me that my writing matters to them…why can’t that be enough??
I feel like I’m hungry for something that I’m not even sure I want. I don’t crave a million people telling me my poems matter. I just want this select group that quite obviously just does not care. Why? Why is that?
That’s part of the reason I started the poetry art collaborative experiment, to try and do something with the poetry, to try and connect it to others (and maybe find that I don’t need that certain group… maybe I could make my own group…a group that does something with the poetry besides tell me it’s “good”, which is nice and I appreciate, but it leaves me hungering for more…). But that’s been quite a slow (discouraging) start. I’ m on hiatus from it (although I doubt anyone’s noticed!) and I don’t want to be a quitter so early into the project, but it seems a bit silly to keep at it.
Oh well, I have a couple more weeks, my mood will quite possibly be more positive then.
I just want my poetry to be part of something, like music is. You can write a song that becomes part of the world, part of society, part of memories and conversations…it’s a backdrop for a million different moments…what the hell does a poem do? Not a damn thing really. So annoying. If I weren’t so innately a poet, I would just stop. But I can’t. It’s part of me, if nothing else.
All kinds of updates
Posted by: Becca on: November 17, 2009
So, I have been minimally participating in the two challenges I posted about prior to this post. This month has not been as conducive to writing time as I’d hoped it would be. I have written some poems and started a novel. Barely started, but started. This is actually a pretty big deal for me, since I haven’t even wanted to start a novel, had any characters, ideas, outline, or research prior to Nov 1st when I wrote the first 1,542 words. Now, it’s brewing in my head, and though I won’t meet the nanowrimo challenge, it’s got me started on a good thing. I’m not sure what I’ll do about the PAD challenge. I can most likely complete it…and I suppose I’ll put together a chapbook? May as well do this…I’ve got to do something with my poems and this would be a good experience.
In other news…I turned 26 a couple of weeks ago, and have had a good two weekends of friends and family and celebrations.
In sad and silly news, book club had a rift, resulting in one member leaving to a new book club. The member leaving happens to be my dearest friend in the group, so I will join her, and stay in old book club as well. Make new friends and keep the old (just like the girl scout song).
Work life is…ever changing. I’m just holding on and doing what I do – help people as best I can.
Money is…short. I’m constantly floating payments around, robbing from peter to pay paul, having to tell people I do not know whenI can pay them, and just not opening the bills I know good and well we can’t pay, while trying to still live a fairly joyful life and indulge in little things because that’s what you do when you’re poor. You don’t pay a bill on time and you go out to eat and buy a shirt because damn it, you want to and there’s no other way to do it.
I had to use money we saved for Christmas and money I got for my birthday to fix my car. Again. And used the rest of my b-day money to get our phones turned back on. My dad and mother in law made me promise I’d use the money on myself, and technically, I did.
Home life is…quite honestly driving me insane. IN SANE. As in, I consistently feel as if I am losing my sanity. I feel as if it is wrong to go into it much more than that, but, should I lose my sanity, all the ridiculous details may spill themselves on a drunken blogging rage one night.
My family life outside of the home is really not much better. My dad claimed he was going have to pretend he only has one daughter (not me) after a very stupid and pointless fight about the holidays and in-laws. After about two weeks and a good fight complete with me hurling f-bombs in front of my parents (at my dad), and my dad claiming he will just not celebrate Thanksgiving or Christmas anymore, the problem resolved itself with my sister in law’s work schedule, at least for Thanksgiving. My dad then bought me a very nice watch and necklace for my birthday, along with cash, and bulbs of my grandmother’s favorite flower to plant in my flower bed. He is now torturing my sister on a daily basis. I am apparently back in the family? We are watching Flashforward together this week, so I guess so.
Socially though, my life rocks. So, that’s something.
My library items are about 20 days overdue, so that does not rock. That didn’t really fit into any other categories, I thought I’d just like to note that.
My dog is super cute and does not drive me crazy though, because he’s just so damn cute and fluffy. Even when he uses the bathroom in the house.
Natalie on the other hand, has been trying my nerves severely, but then I feel like a really shitty mom for not being able to handle it and being short with her – like all the time.
There’s so much more (there always is), but I’m done for now.
So, I am attempting to participate in Nanowrimo and PAD Chapbook Challenge. If I don’t post for a while…that’s why!
Beginning
Posted by: Becca on: October 28, 2009
- In: Experiences| Memoir| dear diary...| family| home| memories
- 1 Comment
To begin, I will begin at the beginning. The beginning of my very first diary, at least. It’s purple, with pink ballet slippers and red roses with green stems all over it. The inside covers are pink, the pages- lined and white, with a place for the date at the top. There’s a little silk ribbon to mark the page I’m on, and a brass lock. The brass key has been lost.
On the inside cover:
This (private) diary belongs to Rebecca Lane Brooks. Hands off!
The first entry: (unedited and displayed as accurately as possible)
Dec. 25, 1991
Today is Christmas! When I opened this present I was so happy! These are some more things I got. A watch, and a Cabbage Patch (a doll thats hair Crimps & Curles). My Grandmother died Christmas Eve morning I was very sad.
Morning
later that day
I was eight, in the 2nd grade at this time. I’ve looked back at this entry many times, the first thing that always hits me is my drawings at the bottom. I do remember the sadness that echoed throughout my family with the loss of MawMaw Faye. The sudden tragedy of ovarian cancer found too late, of a loving but tumultuous woman and mother lost before all the words were said. I remember the joy of the holiday too, though. The inevitable excitement and happiness of lights and ornaments and gifts and treats and family.
I don’t remember if it was a “Santa” present or not, but I assume my mom picked out this diary for me. I’m not sure why a ballet slipper one. Maybe she liked the purple background (her favorite color), maybe she just thought it was pretty, maybe it was the only one (or the best one) there was and she was thinking more about me writing than what was on the cover…
It was a pivotal year in my family, the whole family, since we all lived on the farm together, went to church together, and us kids went to school together- all our lives strung together. Me, mom, dad and Rachel; MawMaw and PawPaw; Steve, Theresa, Clint, and Cody; Allen, Janet, Stephanie, Julie, and Katie.
Daddy was 33 when his mom died. Allen a few years older, Steve a few years younger. They found out she had cancer that summer of ‘91. Towards the end, she was at home, now I know it was probably with hospice care. She had a hospital bed in the living room, where the scratchy yellow couch used to be. Paw Paw’s scratchy yellow arm chair was still there though. Daddy had us go up there, sit by the fire hearth and watch Wheel of Fortune with the nurse standing by and PawPaw in his chair, and then had us give MawMaw kiss. I hesitated (at least in my mind) because she looked so very different. And because I didn’t really understand she was dying.
MawMaw was a big woman, not always, but when I knew her. Like, mu mu wearing big. She kept her hair rolled. It was short and blonde. Her skin was porcelain pale and loose. She always had sweets in the house. She loved us. She loved crafts. And birds. And butterflies. She made the very best mush. If you don’t know what mush is, I’m not sure I can tell you. It’s sort of like grits, but better. No one’s been able to make any since she died. Not they haven’t tried.
Their house was at the top of our road and we were up there a good bit. When we were waiting for the junior high bus to drop us off, we’d sit on the porch -Rachel, Julie, and I- with MawMaw and she would chant this chant “I’m stirring my brew, my witch’s pot, stirring, stirring, stirring…bring Stephanie’s bus!” And the bus would come! We would laugh and clap. It took me years to realize the bus came at the same time everyday!
Sometimes, she’d let us go in her beaded change purse that seemed to have more coins than anyone could ever need in it, and let us get enough each to walk to the store and get some penny candy. The store was at the very top of our road. It used to be a general store that my great grandfather ran. By then, it was the Handy Pantry with red and white eaves and a 2 gas pumps. We thought we were so grown running down that gravel all by ourselves to the store to pick out whatever we wanted. Our favorite candies were those little caramels that have the white cream in the center. We would peel the caramel off, eat it first, and then let the sweet center melt in our mouths as we walked back.
At MawMaw’s, our toys were on the back porch, in a tin trash can, beside the washer. I loved the pound puppies. I didn’t have those at home. We didn’t have a lot of rules that I much remember over there. Just don’t step on her buttercups. And don’t litter in her yard. And don’t make mud pies in her dishes (we learned that one the hard way). When we spent the night, we slept on pool floats in the living room floor and I couldn’t imagine anything more fun and novel at the time.
What I knew, what I know, of MawMaw is limited in personal experience- scattered with other’s interpretations, reflections, experiences, and stories. I know though, that losing her changed everything. Changed Daddy and his brothers. Changed PawPaw. Changed Daddy and Mama. Changed my understanding of life and death.
After her funeral, we went to Allen’s house with the rest of the family and ate and people laughed and I didn’t know what to think. We had just cried and been so quiet and sad in church and now we hug and joke and laugh and eat? Later, I saw that it wasn’t over so quickly. It was just the way it goes, it was how we kept living.
and then
was just the preliminaries, it was just the beginning.
How much does the past matter? Some people dwell on it, some people move as fast and far as they can from it. There is no living in the past, there is no escaping it. To try to do either will only make you crazy. The past – our personal history, is our preface, it’s the thing that gives specific meaning to our now. In it lies our joy and fear and drive and sadness and hope and anger and every little meaningful moment that marked our decisions, where we have been is part of our story. We should consider it as such.
I like digging into my story and uncovering, remembering, revisiting things from the place I am now, narrating my life as it was from the place I now know of it. I like exploring my motivations, then and now. I like learning myself over. I like considering what I can take from then and apply to now. The things I want to create or seek, the things I want to avoid…the things no one can predict or plan…how I dealt, what I’ve gathered and let go of along the way, what I know by holding close to my heart and mind all the pages of my story that I can.
So much can be gained from reflection, without changing or wishing changed the things that were, that are unchangable. To understand the person we have been in the world we were in and how it moved us in whatever directions it has…there’s no way to gauge how well this serves me.
I kept all my journals, tons of letters, notes, ticket stubs, cards, and pictures through the years. I keep fresh in my heart the things that stick out most. I know the facts, my “on paper” facts of my life and I know all the other things…the parts of my heart and mind that only I know, and how it all goes together. I’m probably going to start blogging some mini memoir things, because I bet writing it out will bring even more to it.
So, have I previously mentioned how wonderful doritos are with wine? They are super.
chat
Posted by: Becca on: October 25, 2009
11:26pm Bex:
question
so, why are you the only person on my chat out of 317 people?
i actually checked to make sure I still had friends and they didn’t like mass delete me
11:27pm Rae:
rotfl
11:27pm Bex
i mean, doesn’t everybody get on facebook like 10 times a day?
11:29pm Rae:
it’s kind of sad it made you check to see if you have friends
i have 28 people on
11:29pm Bex:
well it’s pretty odd
see!
what’s up with stalker?
(Rae’s status reads: stalker is back- “You still are the most interesting white chick I ever met. lol lets
just say chick in general lol and I mean that wholeheartedly.
I’ve went on dates with 3 other white chicks on this site.
All a hot damn mess lol.”)
11:32pm Rae
frog boy is back. that’s part of the email he sent me
11:32pm Bex:
who is that?
11:33pm Rae:
i had to tell you about him, he kisses like a frog
he’s 33 lives in the ghetto with his grandma
and wanted me to have his babies
11:34pm Bex:
THAT IS ROTFL
and he doesn’t think you’re a hot damn mess?
little does he know…lol
why did you kiss him?
11:36pm Rae:
that’s why i can’t be friends w/guys. i always feel like i have to do stuff
you want me to send you the email
11:37pm Bex:
please do
whatever happened to your age range standard?
just threw that out the window didn’t you?
11:38pm Rae:
threw a lot of things out of the window.
age, smokers, druggies. some rules are made to be broken…
i was wrong
11:39 Bex:
yes you were
you should just bend them a little, with good reason.
and boredom should not be that good reason
11:40pm Rae:
i wasn’t bored, i decided maybe i was missing out on something great by being too picky
11:41pm Bex:
fail
11:42pm Rae:
true story
how’s the bodie situation
11:42pm Bex:
okay. i’m on them all the time
11:43pm Rae
having a dog makes you not even need another kid
11:44pm Bex:
truest story ever
jason just said the major issue with the dog is he is messing up the carpet.
and he begged for tide with bleach the other day. he is such a girl
11:45pm Rae:
yea, that is sooooooooooooooo major
11:46pm Bex:
there is still no one on my chat. not that I mind talking to you.
11:48pm Rae:
i’m starting to think you do. maybe they made themselves invisible to you
11:49pm Bex:
whatevs. why would they do that?
you need to start bringing me to screen your dates. say i’ve got to bring my sister
she’s married, but needs to get out
11:52pm Rae:
yea, that’s what morg and chels said too
11:53pm Bex:
i’m reading this email, did he graduatemiddle school? are you sure he’s 33?
wth?
he can capitalize words in the middle of the sentence, but not at the beginning/
you know that drives me crazy
11:55pm Rae:
he actually calledme his “rae of light”
11:56pm Bex:
that is what the term wth was made for.
although if we were in middle school, that might be sweet
11:57pm Rae:
i actually have a date fri
11:58pm Bex:
yea, with who? how’d you meet
location
occupation
age
criminal record?
12:00am Rae:
online, 25, tega cay, he builds patios and houses and crap,crimnal record i dunno
12:07am Bex:
okay, like he builds them on a regular basis or he helped someone build them one time
you know
…
12:16am Rae:
lol..no its like a company
12:17am Bex:
good, good
license?
12:17am Rae:
yes
12:17am Bex:
okay, passed the prelims
12:17am Rae:
he has over 800 movies and a projector screen!!
12:18am Bex:
oh no. DO NOT go over to his house to watch a movie on the first night!
but otherwise
that is awesome
and so you
12:18am Rae:
lol no he wanted to go to the haunted house with me on friday but i told him i’ve already been..so hes thinkin of somethin else to do
12:19am Bex:
okay…don’t be a sucka
that would be meepy, you know?
12:20am Rae:
lol..i mean it would but at this point i dont even really care i just want to have fun
12:20am Bex:
i know, but “fun” can make you want to slit your wrists the week after…right?
12:21am Rae:
dependin on what my expectations are goin into it
12:21am Bex:
true story
12:22am Rae:
if i know they dont want anything serious and i know i dont either i’m ok
12:22am Bex:
yea, on the same page and all that
12:22am Rae:
yea
12:22am Bex:
so smokestack is a done deal?
or whatever you call him
12:23am Rae:
what??
12:23am Bex:
josh
12:23am Rae:
lol oh i was like who the hell is she talkin about
yea hes done with me so i have no choice
12:24am Bex:
hehe.he’s not ready for you lady. he’s got to get his shit together
12:25am Rae:
its not even that he just doesnt care never did..it was just all bs
12:25am Bex:
he said that?
12:26am Rae:
no i know that
12:26am Bex:
so, definitely no druggies or recent druggies
keep that rule
12:27am Rae:
lol
12:30am Bex:
i was thinking the other day, that if we played the drinking game “I never”, we would be able to annihilate each other.
i’d start with: I never dated a guy who kissed like a frgo
frog
and you’d drink
12:31am Rae:
and i’d say i’ve never cheated on my bf..and u’d drink
12:32am Bex:
and it’d be on
12:32am Rae:
lol that it would..might actually be fun
12:32am Bex:
totally
i never made out with someone on the ground at a football game
12:33am Rae:
lol if it had only been just that
man i’m havin trouble thinkin of stuff for u..i think u have WAY more shit on me then i do on u
12:34am Bex:
haha, possibly, but you never know
and yea, i was being nice in describing it as “make out”
hehe
12:35am Rae:
lol..well chick i’m off to bed and i’m goin to ponder the dirt i have on u..
12:35am Bex:
haha. love you
12:35am Rae:
love u more nite
12:36am Bex:
goodnight
and you don’t love me more
loser
yea
i’m doing that
12:37am Rae is offline.
