Why Again? Well, Because...

I have this bad habit of recycling old blogs when I am either too tired to come up with a new one, or I have too much racing through my mind that i just can't articulate into the blogosphere. Well, tonight's excuse is soooo the former. Today has been draining and I just don't have what it takes to be witty. I chose this particular repeat blog, because sometimes, for me, it's so amazing to go back and look at what was going on in my mind three months ago. Three months? That's not that long ago! You are likely thinking...but yes, a lot can change in three months. My methods for conveying my emotions through my blog have changed, my writing style has evolved (somewhat), and yet somehow...the subject matter hasn't changed at all. A solid majority of my blogs are about the same thing. Even three months later. I am so grateful to have this muse, that inspires me to write things that speak to other people in a voice that they don't always have for themselves. So, I hope that the muse isn't too terribly disappointed when it sees that I am repeating a blog from times past. But at least I have chosen one that is muse-inspired, and I would like to point out the following lesson to take from this recycled blog: Life happens to all of us. Sometimes what happens is good, sometimes what happens is bad, and sometimes it is a combination of the two. But when life throws something inexplicably good our way, know how to recognize it, know how to cherish it, and figure out a way to take the something good and turn it into the best damn thing that has ever happened to you. Just a bit of advice...

Here's the oldie but goodie:

Why? Well, Because...

I have given up who I am to be someone I am not for someone else.

Why?

Well, because...I guess...

That's about the best answer I have for anything anymore. Amelia asks me why she can't jump on the couch, "because", I say. Isabella wants to know why she isn't allowed to swallow the toothpaste, "because", I tell her. There was a time I used to give them these absurdly complex answers...You can't jump on the couch, there is a chance you could fall and land on your head and have a spinal cord injury, then end up without the use of your legs. Or, you can't swallow the toothpaste, it has ingredients in it that although do a fine job cleaning your teeth, but they aren't made for consumption and can give you oily stools, potentially leading to hemorrhoids...I think you catch my drift. At some point, recently, I have just given up on the detailed answers. It's possible I might be too tired. It's possible I just don't know the answers. It's more likely that I have forgotten who I am, and thus, cannot come up with the witty responses quickly enough.

I feel dull. Like a Ginsu knife bought off an infomercial 20 years ago, used, then never really sharpened (it was a piece of shit knife, anyway). I feel nonabrasive. Quite frankly, I like being a little abrasive. I liked my serrated edge! WHAT HAS HAPPENED!

Life has happened.

But you know, my life is good. There are people in my life that make me feel very good. My children, for example. YOU, for example (yes, you...stop looking around, I am talking about you. What, are you surprised?) But something about my life has worn me down. Maybe it all goes back to not getting what I want, when I want it. But I learned a very valuable lesson this week...I think Mick Jagger put it best when he sang;

"You can't always get what you want.
No, you can't always get what you want.
You can't always get what you want.
But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need..."

So, thank you. Thank you for not necessarily giving me exactly what I wanted, but for giving me just what I needed. Maybe if I can get a little bit more of that, I just might get my edge back, too.

And just as quickly as life happened, life has also changed. And it is good.

So Much More Than Top 40

So...I know that I am pretty much a giant loser, but I really do have a soundtrack for my life. I think music is the most incredible thing. It can convey any emotion, at any time. Remarkably, I am a much better writer than I am talker. When I try to express the things that go on in my mind, in actual words, sometimes I can't. I seem to get too caught up in trying to protect myself...It's quite odd really. Because truly, I feel quite safe.

Anyway, I get that this song is probably about Jesus, but since we all know that I am a heathen, I choose to interpret it in my own way.



Lyrics, cause I know you all like to have something to think about:

They tell you where you need to go
Tell you when you need to leave
Tell you what you need to know
Tell you who you need to be

But everything inside you knows
There's more than what you’ve heard
So much more than empty conversations
Filled with empty words

And you’re on fire
When he’s near you
You’re on fire
When he speaks
You’re on fire
Burning at these mysteries

Give me one more time around
Give me one more chance to see
Give me everything you are
Give me one more chance to be...near you

Cause everything inside looks like
Everything I hate
You are the hope I have for change
You are the only chance I’ll take

When I’m on fire
When you’re near me
I’m on fire
When you speak
And I’m on fire
Burning at these mysteries
These mysteries...

I’m standing on the edge of me
I’m standing on the edge

And I’m on fire
When I'm near you
I’m on fire
When you speak
I’m on fire
Burning at these mysteries...

Engrish Rocks!

That seems like happy hour to me!


more the engrish!

And after happy hour is over...


more the engrish!

In the event of an emergency…


more the engrish!

What if I want to be edible?


more the engrish!

I know a guy that really likes Baked Fire Cheetos. I have a feeling he might like this better:


more the engrish!

And finally, one that has no pornographic references…Unless you are as fond of bacon as I am. Then it’s really quite subjective:


more the engrish!

It's Mine

My children do not share very well. Sometimes, when they think no one is looking, they do an okay job...but generally speaking, they don't share well at all. I thought a lot tonight about this subject, and I came to the following conclusion: Sharing sucks.

It's true, right? It's not fun watching someone else play with your stuff. When we are kids, everyone tells us that we have to share with our friends, that we have to share with our classmates, that we have to share with that chubby girl sitting by us in the sandbox. And you know what? We never really want to. I used to pressure my girls to share more, and I always noticed how uncomfortable and slightly sad it made them feel, and I often wondered, why I am I making them do this? Is it so the other parent can see what a generous and "good" parent I am? Is it to make the other child happier? Why? Interestingly, I don't really know the answer to why we have to share, or why we have to force others to share with us. I get that if I have more than you, it's nice of me to share with you...I really, truly get charity and compassion...But often, those are not the things that compel us to share. It's almost like it's just what's done. It's so very status quo. For my girls, I have adopted the following attitude: If something is very, very special to them, I do not require them to share it with anyone. I do ask that they not bring it out and wave it about in the faces of others, but I don't force them to share it. It's special. It's important to them. They should not have to share.

It is the same logic, then, that should apply to adults. Somehow, though, in all of the effort we put forth in making other people share, we seem to forget that if something is special to us, it's okay to not want to share it. We don't have to make a big scene about it, we don't have to wave it about in people's faces, but we shouldn't necessarily be forced to share it, either. Sometimes we don't have this luxury. Sometimes the things that are most important to us, most special to us, are shared commodities. Then it's different. It's more complicated. Sharing becomes sort of like a bizarre dance that all the interested parties participate in...I'll step this way, you step that way, maybe if we are careful we won't step on anyone's toes and no one will get hurt...That's when people like me start to lose the rhythm. See, I am selfish. I always have been, and I always will be...especially when it comes to things that are special to me.

This is where readers who know me sit back, puzzled, and think..."Kate is always considerate and kind to me, I don't know her to be selfish". Oh, but I am. Sorry to disappoint you.

I am becoming that snarky girl in the sand box that glares disapprovingly at the chubby girl who wants me to share with her. "Oh, no" I will think to myself, "I am not sharing with you...You are unworthy, you might break this, you might try to take this, shit...you might try to eat this". I am every parents nightmare. Every parent, except for me. 'Cause I totally get the snarky girl. She doesn't want someone else to have their grubby, chubby hands all over their something special. I can get that. And that's why I don't force my kids to share the things that they consider to be the very most special things. It's just not cool. And don't even try to come at me with Karma, right and wrong, good vs. evil...That's all bullshit where "sharing" is concerned. Sharing is a ruse that we foist upon others to try and make ourselves feel better at the expense of those who just can't quite speak up for themselves. It's all crap. So, my dear reader, if I haven't completely lost your readership yet, let me just say...I am not starting my "Down With Sharing" campaign quite yet, but if you are interested in joining the cause, please sign my guestbook and I will contact you when we have our first committee meeting. Feel free to deny your agreement all you like, but the more you think about it, I am sure you will agree...You don't want grubby, chubby hands all over your something special either, now do you?

A song from the soundtrack of my life. Enjoy.



The telling lyrics:

You don't have to lie about where you've been.
We both know you've been screamin'.
So why don't you give your little voice a rest,
climb on up inside my bed, and just pretend you need me?

You don't have to lie about what you know.
We both know that I've been sufferin'.
And I don't need to be your only one,
and I don't need your comforting,
I just need you with me.

Stay, Stay, Stay with me.
Stay, stay with me.
Stay, and don't you ever run away from me.

Oh, and if she ever let's you down,
after she has run out of your money
Well then just crawl on back to me, I'm the one that
sets you free, and I'm the one that needs you.

And if she ever let's you go,
we both know what you'll be needin'.
And if you need somewhere to rest,
somewhere to lay your
head, you'll know where to find me.

Stay with me!

I can't live another day,
I won't live another day without you baby!
Stay with me!

Turn down the headlights. Empty the ashtrays.
Sweep out of the airway, what's left of our time.
Oh, you can use my body to
do what you have to, but stay a little longer, stay with me.

The Heart

The heart is an amazing muscle. It is responsible for keeping us alive. My three year old likes to lay her head on my chest sometimes, and listen to my heart beat...She calls its sound the "heart fart"...She's a classy girl like that. I am undeniably proud. She likes to draw little hearts (poorly, but I know what they are...It's a Momma's job to know) and tell me that the little hearts are all her love for me, and it's flying all around...For as much as the heart does for keeping the blood pumping through our body, keeping us alive, we don't often credit it for that amazing work. More often, like children, we credit it for acting as the keeper of our emotions. Admittedly, I can be a bit of a drama queen, but I am actually quite a pragmatist. I seek out the logical explanations for things. I like to look at the science of something. Generally speaking, I can't believe something is real unless you can prove it to me. So, for me, my heart wasn't anything more than a self-contained, constantly exercising entity. It needed no input or direction from me...It did it's own thing. Describing my heart in terms of emotional jargon never seemed appropriate coming from me, unless I was using my oft quoted phrase, "black like my heart". Now, don't misunderstand, I am not cold or cruel, and I do not believe myself to truly have a black heart. It's just not really in my outward nature to offer up my proverbial emotional heart for what ever sacrifice is deemed necessary. I guess I have always though it was too childish, or might lead to some embarrassment on my part, something I hate...

Lately, however, I have been wondering if the child-like representation of the heart might be more accurate than I had previously assumed. I have said before in this blog, that sometimes I am overwhelmed by my capacity to love. I would lay down my life for my children, my love for them is limitless, and I have loved other people in my life deeply and with much passion...But I am not sure that I had loved with my full heart. Maybe I was stuck between being too old to remember how it was done as a child, and too young to know how it should be done as an adult. I think that perhaps now I am unstuck. My heart is a capable muscle, yes, but it seems that it may also be a capable haven. A haven for the heart of another. A heart that I can hear and feel physically, but that I can also feel emotionally. It's amazing to me to think of the cavity within my chest as a safe-place for not only my emotions, but those which are not mine. And safe they are. Because in both pragmatism and emotionalism, my heart is nothing if it isn't strong. And although the defenses around it are built solidly and with fortitude, I can lower those defenses to let this other heart in. It seems that I have more than enough room in my own heart...Who knew.

I think I am on a literary bent. The second post this week with a poem. Next thing you know I will be wearing a beret, drinking a tiny coffee, and smoking a cigarette in some back-alley beatnik bookshop...Nah, I don't look so good in berets, I really do look much better in a fedora.

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear no fate (for you are my fate,my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings