My tongue is in my hand…

Archive for January 2008


7:30am: Woke up too late to get a shower, dressed and heard Natalie, headed to her room. I love the first sight of her in the morning, flushed cheeks, hair all over the place, sweet little face. She tried to eat cookies for breakfast, but was persuaded to Apple Jacks.

8:25ish She was ready, her ride was a little late, but really, I am late so often I have no room at all to complain. I finish getting ready, although there is a ridiculous kink in the back of my hair, from the front it looks decent, good enough, I reason. In my job, even when I’m slightly disheveled I still seem more put together than most of the people I’m around.

8:45am For breakfast/lunch I grab a few things including the box of tomato basil wheat thins. I think it says something about your day if it starts with no shower and grabbing a whole box of crackers.

9:00am At DSS to support someone applying for medicaid and food stamps. Go over with them what to do that day: they just lost their job and are getting ready to be evicted, so some things included calling unemployment, voc rehab, and job hunting.

11:30am Get insurance information filled out at the office to enroll self and Natalie. Made some contacts regarding bills and money. Talked to Jason, nothing yet on when unemployment $ is coming or on a job lead. Attempted some paperwork at the office, but distracted myself too much with music. Mapquested the house I needed to be at to meet a new individual.

1:30pm Made my way to the bank and the individuals’ house (after driving past the road I needed to turn down twice). This one will be challenging, a child, need a lot of activities prepared. I’m not super great at preparation. I’m not even super or great at it. Didn’t the box of wheat thins serving as breakfast key you in to that? Anyways, I need the hours desperately and it is always good to learn how to work with new people. And, as always, the back story is heart breaking. When I meet someone new, sometimes I am instantly excited to help, but sometimes there is an inward eyeroll (accompanied with an internal: greeeaaaaattttt, this is going to be hard and I have no clue what I’m doing……..) It’s the story that always gets me. And, of course, it’s my job.

3:30pm After that, make my way to an individual who has cancelled on me several time lately and claims sickness via voicemail. I pretend I didn’t get the voicemail. I would like to validate this (and stay on the clock). Appears to truly be sick, on to another house, no answer, even though the car is in the driveway (kind of annoyed, but may be sleeping, she is pregnant…) So, I have a little time before my usual end to the day and I decide that going straight home is not a good idea. I did this yesterday after a full day and was according to my husband “stressed out and in a bad mood”. The explanation that I had not had any time to unwind yet apparently did not excuse me. So, probably the best thing to do if possible is to unwind before coming home.

4:30pm I stop in Dunkin Donuts because I can get a small cappuccino for $2.44 and figure that my sanity is worth it. Actually have a chance to just sit and be, write down all the thoughts I’ve had that day and rewrite for myself a conversation I had that I wish had gone better. I drive myself crazy going over them in my head, so I write out how I would do it next time or how I would improve it and this helps a lot. Okay, I think I will survive the 2nd shift as they are calling it now.

5:15pm Stop by the store for bread and bacon, a totinos pizza because my home-all-day-for-now-husband is bound to want something like that midday, and a newspaper (I actually said I was going to do this yesterday, forgot, was going to get one in DD, forgot and only picked this one up because it was already laying by the conveyor belt in the checkout line).

5:45pm Pick up Nat, get home and Natalie wants to be in the garage with Daddy, so we do that for a while, convince her to stop playing with the toys that I need to give away and come inside. I make macaroni and cheese (as always) and try to start on supper- which is actually breakfast food. There is a flurry of whining, food throwing, time out, crying, screaming, a trip by dad to maw maws to get the toy doctor set, and some cuddling, before Natalie is in her room in her Dora chair with her blanket and juice watching Barney and Jason and I are sitting down to eat.

7:00pm Natalie makes her way in, wants Daddy to play, Daddy bribes her with drinking coke from her pirate cup with a straw so he can finish eating.

7:15ish Another flurry ensues of trying to get on the computer, ending up at elmos world, Natalie on my lap while I talk to Alicia about the weekend and book club, cleaning up the kitchen, going through all the toys Nat wants to put in the bath but can’t, taking out the plush, battery filled toy that she threw in anyways, getting her little body into the bath (which she 2 minutes into screams and decides she does not want to take), playing doctor, reading stories, and singing songs.

8:52 pm We revel in the small success of Natalie being in bed eight minutes before nine. Okay, nothing on t.v. Jason, tired of mythbusters, states while I flip through the paper. We decide watching people fall and have pranks pulled on them via You Tube will be entertaining (and it very much is). So, then decide to download some songs on itunes and get started only to find that one of my 25$ gift cards will not work. Sucks. Start to make a CD anyway with what I did download and some things we already have.

11:30pm Jason comes in and tells me that the washer is leaking badly (it was leaking before and we kind of mopped it up and said maybe it was just a fluke).

12:00am I am tilting the washer while Jason works on it, taking hershey kisses breaks everytime he goes back out to the garage.

12:45am we believe it is fixed (he is extremely proud as he also fixed his truck that day).

1:00am I finish making the CD and then make one for Natalie of Colbie Calliat because she LOVES “Bubbly”, or as she calls it “the bubble song” , I add “Clumsy” and “Apologize” because she dances and/or sings along with those too. It is called: The Nat Nat Mix.

1:30am In bed, watching George Lopez, I set my alarm for 5:30 am because I want to have those early morning hours with the sunrise to myself and I am wanting to test a theory I have about sleep deprivation. I also set my alarm for 7:15 because I doubt my ability to wake up at 5:30.

(Just so you know, I did not wake up at 5:30, I did not even hear that alarm.)

Is everyone an addict? I think about this a lot.

Does everyone have something (or multiple things) that gets them high? How much are people substituting their true high, and why? Do people realize they have a sweet spot, a place they can get to and just glide…Does everyone have a sweet spot?

What is the best high? Is there a high from which you don’t crash? (I doubt it.) So, what about the crashing? Is that part of the whole experience? Are people who seek their highs and achieve them, knowing they will crash, admirable or masochistic (or something else)? Does it depend on the high they are chasing? What is the best way to utilize the crash?

Aren’t some highs easier, more socially accepted, cheaper, less destructive than others? If yes, and I say yes, why do some people choose highs that are more destructive, expensive, difficult, less socially acceptable? What high costs the least? Do all highs cost something? (I say yes) What highs are worth their cost, what highs are not? If you can regularly achieve your high, does it take over, or is it possible to balance it and integrate it into daily, functional life? If so, (and I hope so) why can some people manage this, and some people not? Does it depend on the high?

I would like to think that everyone has the capability of achieving a constructive, productive, or at least, not destructive high. If this is true, how can people find this? What’s the best way to help someone break out of their substitute high and find their sweet spot? What’s the best way to maintain a sweet spot?

Is everyone an addict?

I said before that “I think what I love most is when music sounds exactly the way I feel inside. That, is amazing, ethereal.” And it is, but only when you want to feel how you feel, or have at least come to terms with it. Otherwise, music can also be a crawl space in which to escape, allowing for reprieve.

Music can be an anesthetic, it can dull all the sharp edges, and be a warm, still place to lie and just be.

Posted on: January 26, 2008

We all have a world in which we live. I think that often the different worlds most of us notice are the financial, the material.

The ones I’ve been thinking about lately are these two: the homebodies and the wandering (and wondering) spirits. I think sometimes they masquerade as one another, and sometimes they occupy the same person.

How plausible is it to integrate the two effectively?

What, if any, role do traditional gender roles play?

What about fear? What is its role? How can it be used/overcome?

I think, there are people that we are drawn to. People that stick with us our entire lives whether we see them regularly or not. People that we respect and admire. I think sometimes these are obvious people, people that we would expect to be drawn to, people that occupy certain places in our lives: parents, grandparents, siblings, childhood friends, “best” friends, people from church, roommates, significant others.

It makes sense to be drawn to these people, to feel connection, to have your lives entwined. It makes sense to spend time with these people, to talk about them, to make decisions with them in mind, to go out of your way for them. They are important, and no one would deny that or challenge that.

But then, there are the people that are not relatives, are not significant others, not lifelong friends or roommates, not someone you’ve held hands with in prayer circle week after week. They are a co-worker, a person at a store, a friend of a friend, a client, an acquaintance, a classmate, a group mate…they have no conventional right to take up more than the alloted space allowed in your life for people who are not part of the first group, the obvious. They may not even acknowledge the connection, the draw.

But once you do, it’s a done deal. That person stays.

Sometimes that person stays quietly, calmly. That person crosses your mind, you drop them a line, you recall something about them, you see something that reminds you of them. You could easily spend time with them if you had it to spend, but should it never happen again, it’s okay, you understand, you’re not obvious. Then, there are the ones that stay with an insistence. The ones that may shape a decision, the ones that we miss, long to engage with, the ones we may try to pull towards us. We wish there were places for them in our lives. But, they aren’t obvious.

The thing is, I think these people hold keys for us, and us for them. I think we have spaces to fill for one another. If we just ever had the chance, if we just ever took the chance.

I think there are some people that help us to see ourselves more clearly, that help us to be ourselves more sincerely, and that have within them something that draws us in, something in which we see a reflection of ourselves, but is at the same time different enough that we need to know this person.

Sometimes, I think we just want to solidify the connection. Sometimes we want to use our knowledge and experience to lift this person, to guide this person, to enrich this person. Sometimes we want them to lift us, guide us, enrich us. And sometimes, it’s all three.

I think, we only have to be open to allowing people who aren’t obvious into our selves and our lives, allow them to become entwined in us, allow for the exchange, allow for the connection, allow for the unconventional.

Allow for being moved, being broken, being lifted, being challenged. Allow for being drawn upon, allow yourself to draw from others.

What we possess within ourselves is limitless, we just have to realize it. And we just have to be willing to utilize it.

Apparently when I decided to write “everyday”, I meant was that I would write “everyday I get a chance to sit down at the computer, by myself, with time to actually compose some kind of complete thought”.

I was watching Fantasia with Natalie today and I was thinking about how I really do enjoy classical music. I’m not really sure what my first exposure to it was, but I am almost sure it had to do with choir.

I miss singing in a choral group. I loved the group I was in in high school, probably more for the companionship and the teacher than the type of music we performed, although a few pieces stand out in my mind (Kyrie, Set me as a Seal, This Little Babe, and Chapel of Love – through which I learned to sing 2nd soprano). I also developed a love/hate relationship with the movies “Mr. Holland’s Opus” and “Amadeus”, because we watched them year, after year.

I really loved the music and the performance place (Blumenthal) when I was in Youth Oratorio. That was a powerful feeling, musically. So many voices, and the orchestra…I love that feeling. I didn’t return to that group, in spite of loving the musical experience because I was basically the only public school kid there (aside from two other girls from Kannapolis that seemed oblivious to the fact that every one else’s noses were constantly turned up). I wish now that I had given it (and the upturned noses) more of a chance. I think that about a lot of social interactions from high school, but that is another topic for another day.

In college I took a music appreciation course (who didn’t?) that I really enjoyed in spite of the slight pompousness of the professor. I liked just sitting in that room on Tuesday nights and breathing in the music that I otherwise overlook. And seeing, sensing the way the music moved the professor, the way he wanted so much for it to move someone else too, I loved that. Mr. Boyce was like that in high school, my other conductors (Oratorio, College) were like that.

I enjoyed choral in college too, although I must say I am extremely upset that the year after I graduated they went to ITALY. You know what my dad said when I, disappointed and jealous, told him about that? “Well that saved me some money didn’t it?” Although I’m sure he was serious about the money part I think he wishes I could have gone too, he’s been to Europe and always said when he goes back he’s taking me.

When I worked at the daycare, I played classical music lots of times in the infant room. It was a nice break from the upbeat (sometimes encouraging, sometimes annoying), repetitive Christian station usually played. Plus, I think it made me feel somewhat calmer in the midst of 5 babies under 6 months in a room the size of a closet with no window.

Sometimes, music is like air. Sometimes, music is like water. Sometimes music is like wind, like sun, like clouds. Other times, it’s an arm around you, a hand pulling you up, a hand pushing you forward, a hand slapping you across the face. I love when music paints a picture, tells a story. I love when music calms me, moves me, breaks me. But I think what I love most is when music sounds exactly the way I feel inside. That, is amazing, ethereal.

And when you get to perform music that does that, when so many voices and instruments come together to create that sound, it feels like hope, it feels like a living, moving, breathing, expressive and conclusive truth.

I wonder if you can truly experience the fullness of music if you have never experienced bringing it to life with others. I don’t think that it meant the same to me prior to being part of chorus in high school.

Music was always a part of my life, I sang at church all the time in a little trio with my mother and sister, I took lyrics to heart, wrote them down in my book of quotes, let them shape my perspective, but the music itself, that wasn’t until later that I could feel it.

I remember sitting in choir in middle school, towards the end of 8th grade when we were supposed to start figuring out what we wanted to sign up for in high school, watching a tape from the Independence High Christmas Concert. The choir stood on the second floor, overlooking the open area of the first floor mall and began singing “O’ Come O’ Come Emmanuel” and then began slowly walking in two lines down the stairs, filling in the risers that were facing the audience. I could hear the harmonies. I was struck. I was all tingly inside. I HAD TO BE PART OF THAT. And I was. I have 6 tapes, 2 dvds (one for each christmas and spring concert), a photo album designated specifically for pictures of the four years spent, the title of Advanced Women’s Ensemble President for the 2001-2002 school year, and the understanding of what it is to be part of making music.

That will move me for the rest of my life.



Posted on: January 19, 2008

as stated in the first post, i started this account so in hopes of reconnecting and staying in touch with a few old friends, but even in doing that i really kept feeling like i needed to validate having another online account :

myspace which is used mainly for keeping in touch with active friendships/family,

facebook which is used mainly for classmates,

and livejournal; one which is old and only my sister knows about and had no real posts until i transferred a bunch of poetry from myspace to there so i could find it on the computer, but no one else could,

and the other live journal in which i had planned to journal, but really just read the one friend (an old school mate)’s journals and comment…

so all that being said, I have been reading Stephen King’s “On Writing: memoir of the craft” and have been thinking more seriously about what I should be doing with my writing and writing capabilities. It is suggested that writers write everyday, and I use my personal handwritten journal for personal, handwritten kind of things, not daily writing. And I do not in any way need any more loose papers filled with scrawly, indecipherable writing floating around in boxes, bags, folders, and drawers, so that leaves typing. If I am going to sit down at the computer anyway, I may as well blog it instead of taking up memory in my computer on the word processor, plus I may feel more likely to do it if there is a chance someone will read it.

So, all that said, I will write daily on here, and hopefully still reconnect with those friends 🙂