Always the moon

It's been a strange week.

I took a hiatus from the morning pages, Julia Cameron would be appropriately dismayed, but I just can't do them anymore unless I do them right, and random events just kind of had a way of taking over for a while. I feel as though the moon is doing this, testing us all, along with the fricking loonies in society (as always).

My family is sick. I am not, everyone else has random, throaty symptoms, and this has been unpleasant. Zizzy has been a general nightmare since approximately last Thursday, which may be attributed to this throat illness, but I think more so to the fact that she just turned three. Sometimes three year olds can be moody, snotty little bastards. Again, I don't have any patience for this, but try to remember that it's a phase she's going through, she's a wonderful and sweet little girl, normally, and she'll grow out of the sass-hole remarks. Hopefully.

The baby has been affected by hardly eating a thing but filling about 4 diapers with gallons of loose, yellow, extremely offensive excrement. She is averaging roughly 3 baths per day as a result and is very clingy.

I have been having a lot of thoughts lately of something I don't really deal with that often, which is either loneliness or isolation. I don't know if it's the weather, or my hormones or what, but it's been bothering me. My mother lives 100 miles away. My brother lives about 20 miles away but he works all the time. My dad died 12 years ago and never met his grandchildren. I feel like sometimes it would be very nice and helpful if someone was around, just to be here for us.

I was going to **try** and dig deeper into a few other things, but my sick husband, who is sleeping on the floor about 10 inches away from me, is snoring so loud, I seriously cannot even complete thoughts anymore. It sounds like the smoke monster from LOST is in here with me.

two final items, not requiring much thought. . .

1. some douche wanted me to WEIGH his cappucino tonight, after he obviously felt it was too heavy. I kind of had to bite it on that and just remake it, but not before I reminded him that he let it sit on the counter for about 4 minutes before he took a sip of the first one. . . .

2. someone else, a regular, ALWAYS now has a problem with the way I make her drink. If it's not the amount of syrup pumps (which now changes every time) or the whipped cream, or the fucking COLOR of it, it's something else. I think she's harassing me.

thoughts.

I think I have narrowed down the problems of the world to basically one root cause: PEOPLE NOT MAKING THEMSELVES HAPPY.

Morning Pages at 151.

Okay, I am beginning to see the value of doing the morning pages ACCURATELY, as in not making them public or even reading them yourself for months afterwards. I suppose many of the things that actually congest my brain are things that I need to keep private, so eventually I may take the plunge and do them the way they are supposed to be done.

It is snowing, HARD. It's a total blizzard. We went to Target to get pre-blizzard groceries and right as we walked in I saw a mother opening up a bottle of some cola-colored soda and dumping it into her about-3-year old's SIPPY CUP. I don't know why I am surprised by this anymore, but of course, the 3 year old was having a tantrum.

My thoughts on this: sometimes kids need to have tantrums. They NEED to see that no matter how much they scream and cry and freak out, sometimes the answer is NO. I am guilty of getting annoyed by screaming children, hell I've had several of my own do it and I know it's uncomfortable for everyone, but at the same time, I've had the bakery lady ask if I wanted cookies for them while they were being spazzy, and while I of course thanked her for the offer, I had to say NO, as their behavior was ROTTEN and there was no way in hell I was rewarding it with a cookie. I've had Quentin tell me he hated me (and he's only 4) and of course it hurts, but my response has always been, DOESN'T MATTER, YOU STILL GOTTA LISTEN TO ME. . . .

Fucking cola in a sippy cup.

I bet the dentist visits are SUPER fun for this kid, that is of course, if he even gets brought there. . . .
ugh.

Also: I got a facebook request from someone that I absolutely will not confirm, even if I live until I"m 130. Ick. I just typed out this rambling, non-sensical rant about WHY and then re-read it and deleted it. I really try not to be a rude person or be hateful or spiteful because I don't want to carry all that toxicity around with me, but when this came around, the only thought I had was the one my brother was going to write to some high school a-hole that repeatedly kept requesting his friendship: DID YOU FORGET THAT I HATE YOU? I mean really. Do I have to be that blunt?

Morning Pages at 1244pm.

Yeah, I've been lax lately. We had a major birthday party and I worked all day on Saturday and really, it has taken me this long to physically recover, but I have a lot to say.

I dreamed about Slumdog Millionaire and then having twin girls and then CONVERSING WITH OCTO-MOM at Page Snyder Drug in Olivia. My dreams are extremely crazy every night now, without fail.

I liked the Oscars but there are a few complaints: The format was not right. The former winners being involved was nice, but don't have them up there EGO-STROKING for 30 goddamned minutes when all we want to know is who won, maybe even see CLIPS OF THE PERFORMANCES to relate with each nominee? I was so uncomfortable by the best actor award that I had to kick a box, rattle a bag of goldfish, and chew loudly to drown out the audio of this business. Just having the former winners announce the nominees would have been sufficient. And that bit from Michael Douglas about Frank Langhella's performance causing all previous ones to fade away? That's a hell of a thing to say when you're about 3 feet away from Anthony Hopkins, WHO ALSO PLAYED NIXON, NOT VERY LONG AGO?!?!?!?! Please. That was just rude.

Kate Winslet, while always a brilliant actress, was not very well-versed up there. How disappointing.

The business about Sean Penn: this has been discussed on several other blogs. I like him, I have always liked him. He is obviously a hot head and probably very unstable and crazy (like all of the best actors) but he's got the right idea. People always freak out about LIBERAL HOLLYWOOD. It's always been this way! I think many of the freak-outs over gay rights and terrorism and anything else the conservatives think we're soft on stem from peoples' fear and constant need to SEPARATE human beings from each other. Until we are able to see everyone else out there as an equal, as someone we can relate to, this business is going to keep going on. Why is it easier for people, especially mothers, to compartmentalize people according to their differences, when we know what it's like to hold innocence, literally, in our arms? Can we not apply this love to all of humanity?

Morning Pages February 21

These have to be quick, as I have to work in one hour.

It snowed all night last night and it looks like December again. Under all the snow is the ice from the melting last week that froze again. I am grateful to have not fallen on my can going to and from the car last night. Hopefully this will keep all the people in their houses and away from Starbucks this morning. I don't particularly relish a busy morning today. I have a 7.5 hour shift on my feet and I am praying it will be an easy one. What I really want to do is stay here with my family and get things ready for the birthday party tomorrow. As it is, we'll be rushing around the day of, as usual because of uncoordinated work schedules and bad planning.

I dreamed this morning something really awful. I dreamed that my father committed suicide upstairs in our house, MY house right now, on the bed, and I was here with my mom and brother and my kids and I had to tell everyone. The thing is, I didn't know what happened to him, I just knew that he was dead, and when I left him up there, somehow he had turned into a huge, man-shaped mound of MEAT. As in, hamburger or something. In the dream I came downstairs crying and sobbing and I couldn't get my words out and I kept telling my mom that I didn't want to be the one, I didn't want to have to say it. . . .

Quentin asked me yesterday why dead people are put in graveyards, and I tried to answer him honestly without getting too detailed. I'm sure this sparked the crazy thoughts in my head. . . .

yeee.

Morning Pages February 20

I realize that I am defecting from what the real morning pages are supposed to be, as explained in the book. Technically these are not supposed to be public works, I myself am not even supposed to re-read them for at least a few months. But there are other things in the book (artist dates, weekly tasks, lists, etc.) that I am also supposed to be doing that I am not actually going to be able to do for a while, just because I don't have the time, so these adaptations of the morning pages are more preliminary exercises than that actual assignments. Just so that's out of the way.
I do feel better having done these, every day this week so far, so it's a step in the right direction.
Something else I really enjoy about The Artist's Way is the way the author is so supportive of anyone who thinks they might have a creative side that they'd like to develop. One characteristic that I find absolutely despicable is artist elitism. Many of the most talented and creative people I know have also been the most down-to-earth, the most humble, and the most approachable people I know. There have been others who were the opposite. I legitimately believe that everyone is creative in some way, even if they don't know it, even if they deny it. The whole artist persona is ridiculous, if you ask me. Everyone creates SOMETHING, whether or not the New York Times gives it a positive review. Whether or not it's alternative, underground, or ART HOUSE quality is completely pointless. Someone made it, it exists, and somewhere out there, someone will enjoy it or think about it or be inspired by it.

Jesus, how else could something like St. Elmo's Fire stand the test of time?

Last night I dreamed about John Locke. He was everywhere I went. I was in some sort of lock-in, maybe for college somewhere? He was there RIGHT NEXT TO ME. Then I was back in high school at BOLD, there was some sporting event going on, and he was there too. Along with this, I dreamed that a sister of a friend gave birth to 7 babies (septuplets?) and they were all girls. John Locke was there during that too, while we were all looking at the babies and admiring them.

I wonder if I am getting obsessed with Lost to the point of having John Locke be the physical manifestation of Jesus, as is my theory of him on the show? Not actually Jesus, but a Christ-like character who suffers and saves everyone. It's very strange.

The truck is done, hopefully in good shape for a long, long time to come. We have to pick it up this morning. I was getting uneasy about having to be housebound another day, especially when we have a birthday party coming up on Sunday which I have yet to shop for. The cost of all this turned out to be like $200 less than what they told me over the phone: bonus.

Morning Pages February 19

Self Involved Syndrome (otherwise known as Facebook):

I admit I screw around on it way more than is healthy. I see what my friends are doing. I play mob wars. I look at peoples' photos and see everyone's beautiful children. I don't think there is anything wrong with this. When Matt told me about SIS I said, "What the hell else was anyone going to do during this horrible shit-fuck winter?" I mean really? If we could just be outside, in nice weather, like 45 degrees, with sun and no wind, our days would be a lot different.

Which brings me to the main idea. . . this whole winter has seriously been the most difficult few months I think I have ever lived. I think many people feel this way. Peoples' jobs are wavering. People are frantic about money. The cold in Minnesota has been worse than ever, longer than ever, and shows no sign of letting up. Random people of all ages are dropping dead here and there. It's kind of alarming. The week of my dad's death in Olivia, February 1997, 2 other people died within 3 days of my dad. In a town that small, it was actually really eerie and disturbing. This same thing happened about 2 weeks ago; the winter has not been good. I don't really know what to think about all this unpleasantness, other than maybe it's a test of everyone's faith and sanity. My obliviousness toward money has always gotten me through financially wary times, I kind of make a point not to buy into everyone's constant blathering about the sky falling and just try to live my life. The kids help; they live their lives each day without a care in the world, and watching them and being with them calms me (most days). I hopefully can teach them to care about money, politics, kindness, and responsibility a little at a time, but for right now, they don't need to know about unemployment, crime, a bad economy, and pessimism. The coldness has definitely bothered me; I am actually grateful some nights to get to go to work simply for a place to go to be able to leave the house and breathe outside air. I think the anticipation of watching 24 and Lost each week also helps, an event to look forward to is actually a wonderful thing when you're stuck inside and getting tired of Baby Einstein and documentaries about whales.

The baby, too, is an event to look forward to. Little kicking machine some days. A new member of the family. I try to focus on the positive, the good things, and pretty much ignore the negative. I know this is not mature. I can barely even bring myself to pick up a newspaper because there is nothing joyful in them anymore. The metro state section seriously makes me shudder in horror every time I see it. I don't want to know about all the child abuse, wife abuse, cheating the elderly out their retirements, and assaults on the disabled that happen. I DON'T WANT TO KNOW ABOUT IT. Part of me wants to someday get out there, get involved in social services just to be able to try to fix things or help in some way to make the system better and to help other people any way I can, but if it will make me bitter, disgruntled, and jaded, maybe I'm better off just enjoying my own life in my own bubble, with happiness and Pitfall and Frogger and my beautiful, innocent babies.