Six Word Saturday: Pink Floyd

One of my favorite bands performs one of my favorite songs.

You can see them perform it live HERE

Ever feel like ...

JUST ANOTHER BRICK IN THE WALL

yeah - me too



Daddy's flown across the ocean
Leaving just a memory
Snapshot in the family album
Daddy what else did you leave for me?
Daddy, what'd'ja leave behind for me?!?
All in all it was just a brick in the wall.
All in all it was all just bricks in the wall.
"You! Yes, you! Stand still laddy!"

We don't need no education
We don't need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teachers leave them kids alone
Hey! Teachers! Leave them kids alone!
All in all it's just another brick in the wall.
All in all you're just another brick in the wall.

We don't need no education
We don't need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teachers leave them kids alone
Hey! Teachers! Leave them kids alone!
All in all it's just another brick in the wall.
All in all you're just another brick in the wall.
"Wrong, Do it again!"
"If you don't eat yer meat, you can't have any pudding. How can you
have any pudding if you don't eat yer meat?"
"You! Yes, you behind the bikesheds, stand still laddy!"

SIX WORD SATURDAY

Woe? Oh No!

After I read my ‘head banging’ story from Saturday’s post I had a revelation.

I’m most comfortable talking about myself when I can be funny or when I can report overcoming some obstacle – the triumph syndrome.

Now there really isn’t anything wrong with that. Humor has always been an important part of my life – laughter heals. And who doesn’t like and need a bit of triumph.

The thing is it is not the whole story.

I think I’m an open person. Ask me a question I’ll give you an honest answer. I don’t have any airs about me and I remember where I came from. So I ask myself why have I been less than open lately. And could ‘stifling myself’ be the root cause of my fiction writing block.

Maybe.

But I love to share. So what is it that has me avoiding myself.

Denial. A bit.

Fear. Some.

Overwhelmed. A lot.

My business and the economy and my health have all joined forces to create the perfect storm. A storm of magnificent proportions that is wreaking havoc with my head, my heart, my soul.

It is sucking the joy out of anticipating my grandchild to be.

It is making me feel older than my years while managing to make me feel like I have not learned a damn thing in all this time.

What happens when the survivor isn’t too sure she can survive the next round of challenges. Can she vote herself off the island.

What becomes of the funny girl who doesn’t think it’s funny.

How does ‘Earth Mother’ nurture others when she feels she doesn’t know how to nurture herself.

Notice I left out the question marks. That’s intentional. I don’t need or want answers yet. I need to fully form all the questions first. It occurred to me that my sudden unusual bout with being accident prone could be my psyche telling me something. Stop beating yourself up. Take better care of yourself. Stage an accident and let the kids have the insurance money. Who the hell knows.

I’m not sure where this current line of thought is going. I do know that many of us are experiencing the same sort of feelings. We’re losing jobs, our kids are getting laid off, our unemployment is running out, we’re less than hopeful about the hope we voted in …

I think I may explore this for a bit. If you’d like to share please do so in the comments. We get some wonderful conversations going round here and I value that.

Don’t worry about me! Don’t feel sorry for me! I really truly hate that.

Suddenly I have all these songs running through my head. The Circle of Life. I Will Survive. Anything Joni Mitchell.

And …

Don’t Cry For Me Argentina.

"Talking 'bout my boy"

Today is my son’s 35th birthday.

Look at that face! He still has the most genuine smile. His eyes still twinkle but as he got older the incredible cheekbones he inherited from his Dad became even more prominent.

He loved yellow and Sesame Street. Especially Ernie and Bert. His entire nursery school wardrobe consisted of Sesame Street character shirts – every character – every color.

Years later I would come to miss those shirts when his tastes turned to WWF and NASCAR. Thankfully that didn’t last long. I’m not a snob but Rowdy Randy Piper!! Come on.

The second photo is from his wedding two years ago. We danced to Lee Ann Womack’s ‘I Hope You Dance’. I insisted on the original version – I hate when the band singer tries to cover a song and add their own style. And this was a Greek band!! They were great and everyone had a wonderful time dancing but covering a pop country song – uh NO.





One aside – the schemata around my shoulders is because my dress was too big. I lost 12 pounds between the last fitting and the wedding and all the seamstress could do was put tiny little loops into the shoulders and hook them to my bra. Of course the loops broke during the ceremony. How fitting that I should be thinner than I’d been in years and have to shroud myself in tons of silver silk. I am a constant source of ironic amusement.

I chose ‘I Hope You Dance’ for the lyrics. They said so much of what I want for my son. I want the gentle, wondrous child he was to always have a strong place in his heart and soul.

I Hope You Dance lyrics
I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
GOD forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance...

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Livin' might mean takin' chances but they're worth takin'
Lovin' might be a mistake but it's worth makin'
Don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter
When you come close to sellin' out reconsider
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance ...

And he does dance …

He is a kind and gentle man. He once held up traffic and risked life and limb to move baby rabbits off the road and back into the woods. He tears up at sad movies (don’t tell anyone!). He charms everyone – especially older ladies. He is the first to go and shovel, to bring the trash out or to carry groceries for all our older neighbors.

Since I worked so much he was often home alone – our Brooklyn neighborhood was tight and everyone looked out. Of course there were the usual teenage adventures. The time they all cut school and hid out at my house. The time they decided to climb to the garage roof and build their own bungee jump. And the drinking beer and then truly expecting me to believe they had food poisoning as a way to explain the barf fest going on in my bathroom.

But never trouble with drugs or drinking and driving. He was usually the first boyfriend that Dads would allow their girls to be in a car with. His friend’s parents would call me to tell me he broke up a fight, he brought home a drunk, he gave away his last $10 so someone could get dinner.

It was a rocky start for my boy. His Dad never did much but let him down until he finally just disappeared. He had the pressures of being multi- racial and living in a closed minded neighborhood. He had a very young and inexperienced Mom who was trying to grow up herself while caring for an incredibly dysfunctional and wounded family. I know he carries some scars from those days. From the time, when he was 6 or 7, and a bunch of local morons tried to make him leave a pizza place by barraging him with the word Nigger. From the time he had to come to family court with me to try and stop his Grandfather from hurting his Grandmother anymore. From the day his Aunt decided to commit suicide and made him the last person she called.

From this rocky start a gem emerged. He has a quiet dignity that moves with him. He doesn’t say a lot and doesn’t get involved in silly daily strife but he will be there in the blink of an eye for anyone in trouble. He loves to tease but is never cruel. In all the years of difficult situations I can count on one hand the number of times he lost his temper. He is a peace maker. He accepts without judgment. He loves deeply.

One of my favorite moments is right after I took in Siren. Although my son loves animals he was put-off by how wild and unpredictable Si was. I misjudged my ability to control Siren and in their first meeting Siren bit my son – long and hard! Days later I overheard him whispering to Siren that he “understood”, that “it sucked to be lost and afraid”, he knew Siren “was angry” but he “was safe now, we’ll take care of you forever. So please – you’re giving Mom a heart attack. Just get the fuck over yourself” Again – you didn’t hear it here!

If there was one gift I could give my boy today it would be a magic mirror. I would hold it up for him to see the man I see. I guess that comes later – when he’s older. After all – 35 years is but a blink of an eye.

"Such a Pretty Me!"

Remember that song from "Flower Drum Song"? - "I feel pretty, oh so pretty" and "see the pretty girl in the mirror there, who could that pretty girl be?" - "such a pretty face, such a pretty (somethin') - such a pretty me!"

That song, along with "Look at Me I'm Sandra Dee" are long time standards in the Soundtrack to My Life. They come up all on their own when I'm feeling anything but pretty.

I think we all have a Soundtrack to Our Life - songs that pop into our heads at a particular moment - I have taken to letting the songs splain' to me what I'm feeling.

I'm still banging my head against that deadline. The printer has finally agreed to behave and for that I'm grateful but the papers that need pushing just keep growing and growing.

Yesterday I worked - well I was at my desk - from 6AM to 3AM this morning - my only break was my visit to the therapist and to Stop N' Shop. Imagine if they had therapy booths at the Stop N' Shop - oh the efficiency.

Since I'm still recovering from the "Elephant Leg" mishap I've been trying to balance the need to care for myself with the need to meet this deadly deadline. The leg needs to be elevated so I've got boxes (full of incomplete work and unwrapped Christmas gifts) stacked next to my desk and adorned with a giant pillow. The leg must go there whether it wants to or not several times a day. Given that the infection that led to "Elephant Leg" is still hanging around (for the holiday I assume) I have developed an abscess in a very unmentionable area - let's just say that when the leg ain't elevatin' the pillow is moved to my chair.

Add to this a lack of sleep and well - "such a pretty me" - At one point last night/this morning I was wrapped in a blanket wearing old sweatpants and a football jersey. My hair is shoved under a huge headband and I don't even remember where my make-up bag is. Even my beloved earrings have been forsaken. My earlobes are just too tired to hold them up. Oh and undergarments are such a drag at 3AM - I'm thinking of wrapping my desk with crib bumpers so I don't injure myself any further. And I've had another T-shirt idea - "Just cause my boobies are droopin' don't mean I can't have a nice day"

Now I really don't want any sympathy - just send chocolate. And I'm actually in a fine state of mind - coffee induced. The carrot at the end of my shiny nose is putting up my Christmas tree once I hit send on this data file.

I just wanted to share this vision of me - if I were really brave I'd enclose a photo but trust me, use your imagination.

And I wanted to confirm for myself that the light at the end of the tunnel might actually be Christmas - and not the oncoming train.

Edit: It was brought to my attention that my pretty girl song is from "West Side Story" - the song from "Flower Drum Song" is "I Enjoy Being a Girl" - clearly my inner IPOD shuffle needs some rest. Thanks to Cathy who always looks out for me.