Saturday, March 19, 2016

Obscuring Reality

I've realized that the longing for art,  like the longing for love is a malady that blinds us, and makes us forget the things we already know....

Like with passion comes pain; with gain comes loss. 

The human condition is in itself a malady.  I'm to full to be half loved.  In art as in love, you need the richness and passion to grab you, the fullness.  Like the creation of art, you have to create to become. 

Art is obscure, but real. Love can be both, or neither. Tantalizing, filling the senses, but elusive.  Most people are more than one person, virtue wears a veil, vice wears a mask. Both are mimicked. Their thoughts, someone else's, their passion a quotation. 

There are extraordinary things in the mundane, hidden treasures in the darkest shadows.  You cannot do epic things with basic people.  When you take a lover, take one who looks at you like you are magic.  If you do not, life, like art, goes up in smoke. 

The longing becomes elusive. Forgiveness is like this, the windows closed, the curtains drawn. The sun is out, but you cannot see it.  If you can love someone, something,  with your whole heart, then there is salvation in life, in love and in art. 

Imagination is everything, it is the preview on life's coming attractions. Reckless danger, narcissism and whiskey. Creating art with words, love with photos, life from life.  Passion. The manifestation of the independent mind. Reality obscured.

Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Pivotal Moments

I've talked about pivotal moments before in my life. 

I've have learned at my age, that I am not a casual person.  It is all or nothing. I'm coming to realize that my standards are changing, and what I require for myself.  When Paul walked out, my self image took a hit, and continued on a down hill spiral. I didn't require anything at that point.  I was looking for fun, to escape the pain. 

Well, that is what I got, and a lot more than I bargained for.  Here we are now, 6 years later, from that moment when my entire life went upside down, to still attempting to recover. 

I set goals in the beginning, then put others before those goals. I re set goals, and still I had things happen that I did not foresee, or plan on,  I would continuously change those goals. I procrastinated, holding out hope that my life would go back to normal. 

I realized that it would never go back to normal, unless I made some major changes, not just in my thinking and behaviors, but in my belief in myself. 

In the last month, is when I actually started making some of those changes.  Keeping people around me that encourage what I want.  People who support me even if they do not agree with how things are for now. 

Commitments that I made to myself and my boys, I am working on keeping. Commitments to myself.  My writing, my jobs, my life style. I have been happier this time around in working towards these things, then I have been in the past 6 years. I think the difference has been, that I mean it. 

I meant it in the past 6 years too, but did not follow through. Everything I was doing for the kids, was peripheral. What I was doing for me, was not what I should have been doing. I'm not going to beat myself up over this, because I did it, and now I am done with it. 

I was there, but not there. My heart was broken.  Not from subsequent men in my life, but from the one man I thought would always be there, and I used that brokenness as an excuse to do what ever the hell I wanted. Most of the time, not in my best interest, and certainly not in my children's. 

So, here we go again. Another pivotal moment, or series of moments. These have taken place in the last month, between conversations with friends,  and decisions that I have made and plan to stick too.  It was like a weight on my shoulders, that all of a sudden is gone. 

So I guess, you all want to know what that pivotal moment was? :) not saying, because I have said in the past, and then it does not come to fruition. I guess you'll just have to stay tuned this time. 

The American Dream

California or bust 
This is one of those Mondays, that is the epitome of a Monday. There is a reason for stereotypes, and that is not just for people, it is for days of the week, and months of the year too. 

Today, the 1st day of "spring" forward, a Monday of all days, which, for some reason always falls on a Monday. Well, not technically, it's on a Sunday morning, but the effect is on a Monday. 

Work started off with me in pain, per my normal work day, then proceeded to get even crappier, since I could not get a hold of the clinic I needed to. In the meantime. my son is texting me, saying he has been put on call, because his job does not have enough work to keep him even part time. 

His car is a P.O.S,  and his father does nothing to help him. Nor does his "ex" stepfather. My 16 year old son who lives with me, has mechanical issues with his car also.  Another P.O.S, and his father refuses to help make the car safe for him to drive, knowing he also has college and a commute for work. 

"Mom" to the rescue again. Not sure how I am pulling this one off since I am barely making it myself, but somehow I always do. I feel as though the men in my sons lives do this purposely so they can get back at me for some unknown reason, yet all it does is hurt the boys. 

In the meantime, I am on calls, and in text with a few friends, to see if I can at least get one of these cars in safe working order. The one "car" guy I know that is going through some major shit of his own, responds to my text.  (I think we both have for the past 6 years of knowing each other) I asked how it was going, and I ended up with the major laugh of the day. 

His answer? "living the dream" "one nightmare at a time!" He was so spot on. 

So, if you know me, and know me well, I respond to most crisis in my life with sarcastic humor, which is why when I got that text back, I laughed my ass off. I don't think I would make it through some of the events that I have made it through, without my friends, my sons, and lots of humor. Sarcastic or otherwise. 


Wednesday, March 9, 2016

The Ride

Changing paths can make all the difference in the world 
Spring is on the way. Flying down the back roads of Snohomish Co, wind going past, the smells of spring in the air.  Fresh mown lawns, cold and brisk, yet the sun is out.  

You can taste the promise of a new beginning. Memories of childhood, growing up in the country, farms, hay, earth.  Memory's fill my mind, of my younger self, traveling these same roads, yet now, it is so much different. 

Life's lessons have taught me to be open and receptive to change, and new beginnings. I'm free spirited, wayward, and wild, yet grounded to my upbringing and roots. A contradiction in terms. 

I want passion, excitement, chaos, complications, and joy,  yet, I want freedom. Freedom to be me without reserve. I want someone to have to fight for me, when things are going wrong. Someone to ground me when I am heading for the door. 

I want commitment,  compassion, creativity, through good and bad. Change, growth and love. I want life. Storms, thunder, lightning. 

This ride I am on, is the start of that I think. We fit. Thoughts, ideals, moral upbringing. We are comfortable, but I also know, that I will have the rest that comes with this. I feel it. 

Mistakes will be made, feelings hurt, fights will happen, but in the middle will be respect. Respect for individuality. I think I can do this. Fear and anticipation for where this may go, the road less traveled, a broken pattern, that needs to be broken. A possibility for the future. 

As we roll through the small towns, the air changes to stillness, in anticipation of rain. Washing away the drudge of winter cold. Cleansing the past, and opening the skies to stormy weather. Opening a new path. 

Thursday, March 3, 2016

Hello again

 hello again my old friend. 
Roger Fisher All told album release party 

30 years ago, I lived in the house I am living in now. This was during the Seattle music scenes explosion into fame. We had a few bands that came out of here, that made it big, prior to the early 80's. Heart, and Queensryche for a few. However, the late 80's and the 90's put us on the map and kept us there. I have always been involved in the music industry, in one way or another, and plan to continue as long as I can. 

Lets back up a few years here. I went through a divorce, and subsequent dating after that, and have now made the decision to concentrate, not only on my writing, but myself and my 16 year old son. 

Since being back with my girlfriend, I have found myself happier than I have been in a long time. I have made some colossal mistakes in the last 6 years. I often wonder what it is with my generation, that has become so fast paced and shallow. 

I find little substance in this world these days, and that is a very scary thought for my son's future. Don't get me wrong, I have some pretty amazing friends, old, and new. That said, I think I am at an age, where I need to really focus on me, and the type of people I want in my life.  I have not really cared all that much about "types" not since my early 20's.  Oh, I've fucked off for the last 5 years, and I am definitely paying for it now, but that is not what I mean by saying I need to focus on me or my son. 

I need to get it together here, and stop worrying about everyone else. Something that is very hard for me to do, since it is inherent in my nature. I have always put other's before me, and I am still doing it. In both cases, they are women who have been my friends for 30+ years, so I am not feeling to guilty about it. 

My health is still not good these days, and I have not paid that a lot of mind either. I need to, again, for my boys. and for other friends in my life that are very important to me.  I don't want to, because I am tired of the system, and constantly fighting it, but I need to. 

So I have made this commitment to stay where I am, at my best friends childhood home, and not go anywhere for 2 years. I need to get my writing put together, and get my illustrator on board, or in this case, a local photographer that I have known for the last 6 years. His visuals, are like my words. You can see pieces of him in the photos, the same with the pieces of me you find here. 

A lot of my writing will give you insights to me, but will not give you who I really am, at heart. A little wild, a little rebel, a little lost. I don't feel like I truly belong anywhere these days, and I more often than not, feel numb to life's changes. Waiting for the other shoe to drop I guess you could say, because it always seems to. 

I think at this point it is the lack of stability that I am feeling. I'm not feeling like this is going to be a long term commitment to where I am. Just a feeling, but there it is. I've always had that wild streak, but at my age, I am feeling the need for settling down, which I thought I had done in my early 30's. This is not where I pictured my life, and I am the only one who can take the steps to change my view. 

Another new beginning. 

Friday, February 26, 2016

My father 6/6/1928 - 8/15/2015

I've always been closer to my father than my mother.  I loved them both, but dad was my idol. I looked up to him like most little girls do and I tried to emulate him, as best I could. He served in the military, in the Korean war, and came home to marry my mother. 

He worked at Associated sand and gravel for 38 years, he missed 2 days in that time. His work ethic was strong. In his era, loyalty was huge. The life time of a job was not 7 years like it is now. Friendships lasted 30 years or more. Family ties did also. Not so much now. 

He raised us, (my brothers and I) to work for what we had in life. He taught us what family meant. commitment, good bad or indifferent, dad never strayed from the path he had chosen. 

When I was 17, I had a falling out with him. I had some personal things happening, that I was unwilling to tell him. So when I left the house that day, his words to me, were, if you walk out that door, don't come back. 

I have to say, that I took him at his word. The one thing he taught me that always stuck with me, was if you don't have you're word, you don't have anything. 

So, for 3 years, I stayed gone. I went to college, with a major in Art, and a minor in psychology, (like most people in my age group) That said, I did not stick to it, and transferred back to ECC. Then changed my major again, to political science.  I became pregnant with his 1st grand baby, and done done with the father to that baby at the same time My dad was done with him that too. 

As the years went on, I was married twice. My 1st marriage, I had a son. This lasted 3 years to the day, of the birth of him. Within less than 6 months, I married again. This time, having 2 more son's, and gaining custody of my 1st grandchild. This marriage lasted 16 years... 17 with him altogether. The day my husband told me he was leaving, I called my dad in tears. I was devastated. My question, on the anniversary of his and mom's marriage, of 56 years, was, how did they do it? My father tired to assure me that this was only temporary in my life. 

I later learned that was not to be, but by then, I was fine with that. I was angry, but not at my ex, more so at the woman who he left me for, she was a mother, and she had allowed my children to witness the sordid affair. God, was I angry! 

I took me 6 years and a few failed relationships to let the anger go. I'm in a much happier place in my life now, and I can only hope that the values and morals that I have taught my own son's, were the same as the ones my father taught me. I made a promise to myself, and my children, to stay single for 2 years, until they left my home. After that, who knows. 

One of the other things my dad taught me in life, was, you can't cry over spilled milk. Dad was a smart man. Needless to say, that I have tried to  live my life like he did. No regrets. Lessons learned, ect.  Dad lived his life to the fullest, I loved him without reserve. He taught us not to judge others.  He also taught us, that what we couldn't change, to let go. 

So this is my song to myself and my father, may he RIP. When my mother passed away. I was quick to write about her. Not so, with dad. This took longer, and has had more meaning to me than mom's passing did. I loved her, but I loved him more. I've always been a truth seeker. This is what dad was too. He lived the life he choose, without judgment, or reserve, and I have always striven to live the same way. It may not always have been the best of ways, but it worked for me. Right, wrong or indifferent. 

Let it go, by Zac Brown

Thursday, February 18, 2016

Remember me

In the cold of winter, with the skeleton arms of the trees... 

Will you remember me? 

With the setting sun, in the shadows of the night, 

reaching out of the firelight.... 

Will you remember me? 

A month we had, what was it, carnal needs, lust, love? 

A connection missed, meeting to late.... 

Will you remember me? 

I think of you late at night..... 

Wondering, will you remember me?