After that last whiny pity party of a post, I didn’t even want to look at this effing blog anymore.  (My hand still hurts, by the way, but it’s no longer purple or ginormous.) I decided to just wait until things felt right again, because I felt like it has been a platform for so much misery that it is painful even for ME to come out here.  I know that people might be worried about me, writing a post like that and dropping off.  I was so down in December.   The holidays were brutal.  So, Dear Readers, I figure it’s time to update you, and let you know that for the first time in a good while, I’m truly feeling great.  I’m not just smiling in the mirror and waiting for the mood to match it, then seeing my own face and starting to cry.  I’m actually forgetting about the damn mirror and living my own life again, and when I catch a glimpse of myself, it tends to be smirking or mischevious or in thought.  That’s more honest than just a smile anyway, at least for me.

Right now I’m focused on a job search and getting some things in order, so it’s going to be spotty, but I feel so much more like ME and I want to express some of that again.  So, here I am.  Time for another reboot.  I know many people hate New Year’s Resolutions and the like, but it’s a natural time to reevaluate for me.  My birthday, my wedding anniversary, and the New Year all come within three weeks of each other. It’s a time of looking over the past year, seeing what has happened, and how to continue that path if it’s working, or to change it, if it’s not.  I didn’t really consciously decide to change my attitude, though I’ve been trying to work on it steadily, but a switch seemed to flip for me on the last day of the year.  The emotional significance on making it through the year strengthened me, and all the whining and misery kind of dropped off.  Yeah, since then I’ve had bad moments, but mostly I’ve felt confident and optimistic again.

I wanted to start 2010 off with a bang, and I really managed to do most of what I wanted.  No fireworks, but there was a gorgeous round full moon the night of New Year’s Eve. It was a blue moon and an eclipse was visible on the other side of the world, to boot.  My year would be starting with beauty.

On New Year’s Day, we had the traditional collards, black eyed peas, and I even added cabbage in this year for good measure. I wore a pretty new sweater, to show I wanted more of the same.  I didn’t do any cleaning at all — so as not to sweep the good luck out, and also not to spend the rest of the year cleaning up messes.  I had friends over, and we had a good time. The luck and money gods have not been slighted this year.  Hopefully they will reward me with heaps of green stuff and luck in my endeavors.

I think there really is something to starting the year off like that.   While the charms and tokens might not in and of themselves bring the good luck, the attitude will, I truly believe.  If I start out thinking, “2010 is going to suck as hard as 2009 did” — a FaceBook status I’d already read twice by noon January first — then the prophecy might be self-fulfilled.  Yes, I know that the arena of uncontrollables is out there, waiting to zap me.  I’m all too aware.  But I’ve sustained a good half a month of really good days.  I expect more to come.

As I was making my morning coffee, I realized that I’d forgotten to post at all last night.  Red Chief was puny, and I was distracted with trying to cheer him up.  Both of the boys and I watched Moose and Squirrel in bed together until we fell asleep.  Did you know that Rocky and Bullwinkle was around in 1959?  I didn’t, but when I realized that they were speculating on the existence of moon men, I had Chris wiki it for me real quick.

In the midst of all of that, I just forgot all about the blog.  I was furious at myself when I realized, though.  I railed about how if someone else had asked me to promise to post every day, I’d have done it.  But since it was a promise to myself, I broke it. Didn’t do the novel, no, so I’m going to stick with blogging, and still I don’t even make that. I’ve no idea why I don’t treat myself with the respect I’d treat others, but this is just another example, and typical.  So close to being finished, and I blow it. Even now, looking at the clock, I wanted to just say “screw it” and go on, not blogging for the rest of the month.

I guess I’m pretty burnt out of blogging right now, if I tell the truth.  I’m also struggling with other issues, and wondering where the line between utterly stressed out and grieving and truly depressed lies.  Of course, if I decide I need more help, then I have to decide how to get it, what with the lack of income and all.  One day at a time.  I’m seriously sleeping too much. I suppose I should be proud of how well I have done, given the month, but all I saw was one more broken promise.

I’m aggravated at myself, but I am not allowing the typical “well, I blew it, let’s go the whole distance” tantrum that I’d normally throw to fully punish myself.  I’m working on that self-forgiveness thing.  It really isn’t that big a deal, if I look at it as if I’m another person.  When it’s me,”good enough” doesn’t seem to exist.  Right now tiny failures terrify me anyhow.  I need to work past that, because the only cure for that is inactivity, which is unacceptable.

Behold, my powers of parenting and artistry combined!  Quake in fear!

(Also, check it!  I didn’t realize it until later, but I used lots of consummate Vs!  That’s how you can tell it’s a real dragon.)

Sometimes being a parent is gratifying.

Today, when the boys were getting a bit too rambunctious, I suggested the boys go play outside. Both of their faces immediately fell, and I knew something was up. They told me that they didn’t want to go outside, because the little girl who lived next door wasn’t their friend anymore. This girl is the light of their existence. They will be dead set on doing nothing but loll on the couch and be slugs, but the second they hear her voice outside they disappear, barefoot and all.

I knew good and well they’d all been playing badminton together Friday evening, and I’d wondered why Saturday was such a big indoor day for everyone. I dug a little deeper. Piecing together the two versions of the tale, the boys had gotten carried away with playing in the autumn leaves. They threw the leaves over her head one too many times, and she got fed up. She announced that since she didn’t have any friends that would play with her, she wasn’t playing outside anymore. Both of the boys just accepted this as their due for crossing the line. They both expressed remorse, but they informed me that their apologies hadn’t worked that day, so that was that. They’d lost a friend.

I was horrified at how easily they let her go. Clearly they were both sad at the loss.  They didn’t want to even think of playing outside unless there was a chance she might be there. They were embarrassed that they’d hurt her feelings, and didn’t want to “bug” her anymore.

It was clearly time for a life lesson, one that lots of grownups I know need as well. I suggested that perhaps Next Door Girl actually might be missing them. Surely, there was a chance she could be persuaded to be their friend again. They were very skeptical, but agreed to try to win her back. I let them mastermind the plan, and they decided to write her a card asking for forgiveness. Red Chief even added a Tootsie Pop from his dwindling Halloween stash. She didn’t answer the door, so they left it on her mat and waited.

I was so worried that this would backfire on me.  I distracted them with the movie Nausicaä, and crossed my fingers that all would end well.  Within an hour, two little boys were rewarded for their persistence. This note had been left on OUR doormat:

I forgive u can u come out side p.s. thanks for the succer

All was right with the world again. The movie was forgotten, and they even left the door open in their scramble outside.

Life goes on, right? My husband lost his job yesterday. There’s a lot of stuff that I need to rethink, since my classes at UAB are no longer going to be free. I was already struggling with prioritizing properly anyway, and everything got ever so much more complicated that it already was. I assume I’ll end up back at work at least part time. I’m not giving up on the engineering that easily, though. It just will be a different plan than I originally thought.

When Chris called me to pick him up, I told a few people, made a phone call to a friend who listened to me and I thanked profusely, then I made a quicky post to various social networks. People’s connections will be our best ticket to getting leads and straightening things out. What I didn’t expect was that so many people I knew had already posted images of their arms for me, referring to me as their impetus. I’d already been rewarded for allowing myself to show pieces of me I never usually would let be out there. Then, in short order after I announced Chris’ job loss, people showed themselves ready to help in whatever capacity they could.

Apollo immediately sent me the Mountain Goats’ This Year video. I hadn’t heard that song in ages, but it so appropriately expresses my exact mental state. This year isn’t going to beat me, damn it.

The day progressed, and though my head ached, there were more phone calls, more support, and even friends who came over and hugged me and made me laugh and wouldn’t let me stay down.

And it continues on, even today. One of the people I’ve known the longest, since preschool, sent me a message asking what was wrong? I briefly told him about the state of things as they are right now. Tonight I logged in to write this post, and he’d sent me a picture of his arm, with the word LOVE on it. His caption read, “Supporting an old nemesis.” (I was someone’s nemesis! How cool is that?!)

I’m very glad that I’ve learned to begin to show a bit of vulnerability. Letting people into my emotional inner circle is difficult, but I’m so glad I’ve gotten over that enough to let people in, or else how would they know I needed those little perks? Thank each and every one of you for all you’ve done. Karma will be knocking on your door, I promise.

The idea of career and passion has been on my mind since I can remember thinking about what I wanted to be when I grew up. I was told at an early age that I could be anything I wanted, and to follow my dreams. As I got older, my dreams did not divert from the male-dominated fields that they always were in, and suddenly adults wanted to tell me I couldn’t really do whatever I wanted, that’s just something that people say so that kids will aim high. I had apparently aimed too high for many people’s comfort, and was encouraged to lower my bar a bit.

I took that encouragement a bit too much to heart, or perhaps I didn’t really give it much heed until I met Chris. Either way, my plans changed greatly somewhere late in high school and early in college and I decided my passion would be better served pursuing a family than a career. I know now that this isn’t an either/or proposition, but my young foolish self had seen one too many families who were neglected for a career. My parents’ marriage was foundering, and I blamed behavior that I saw as glorifying money over relationships. Age brings wisdom, and I realize now that it was more complicated than that. And of course, the choice isn’t between the two, but how to properly balance the two.

I still am not convinced that everyone’s dream job is what they need to pursue. ”Following your passion” isn’t as clear as guidance counsellors would have you think.  For some people, a job is just a means to a paycheck, so that they can spend their time with their true passion. I don’t think there is anything wrong with continuing in a career that’s only “good enough” if it provides the chance to live in your dream town. It all depends on where the passion really lies.

There are people who can pursue multiple paths in a life’s span. As an adult, my passion has been devoted to my family until now. I’ve set aside personal dreams, but they were strong and would not be denied forever. The last five years I’ve been weighing any decision carefully, but I’ve decided to resume those personal goals. I don’t really dig being at home, domestic goddess though I may be. I’m easily bored, and even more resentful if I feel that I’m being held from my true potential.

The balance of what is truly my passion is weighing on my mind lately, as I’m having trouble with making ends meet despite pinching pennies hard enough that Lincoln cusses me out.   I know that being a well rounded, fully realized woman will provide my children with an excellent example of someone who did not compromise her beliefs or values for anyone. I know I’m going to screw up along the way, and they’re not going to get every little thing I wish I could give them.

I wish I could wiggle the answer out as to how to be inordinately wealthy and simultaneously have beaucoups of free time already! I think it really comes down to needing to sleep about 5 hours less any given night. Anyone who has seen me on 6 hours of sleep or less will agree that this is not in anyone’s best interest. I know that people the world over have this issue, and particularly women. I’ve really only scratched the surface. I could realistically make the whole blog about this and have fodder for writing for ages.

As if to illustrate my point, my oldest just tried to diagram the way tastebuds really work and I grumped at him because “you see Mama is typing.”  So I guess I ought to go on to the next thing.

Yes, it’s time for that blog post that everyone in NaNoWriMo makes, but here goes.  Maybe I bit off more than I can chew. I think I’d roughly be meeting my quota if I’d quit throwing my beginnings away.  I’m giving it to the end of this week to get going, and if it doesn’t, then I’m going to return next year.  Last week I was sick, and the next two weeks are chock full of holidays and company.  If I can’t really get to rocking by the end of this week, I think I’ll just be freaking myself out.

The whole point of this is to put excessive amounts of pressure on myself to set a goal, and finish it.  I know that some writers have published works from this project. Water for Elephants was a fun quick read, and ended up being a best-seller.  I didn’t intend to publish anything.  I just wanted to kick my butt into high gear and get cracking with the creativity.

I’ve not thrown in the towel completely yet.  The bad start has me wavering at this point, and I’m not figuring out how to get very far in just yet.  If I want to write the novel I want to read, I need to be in a much happier mind frame. If I want to write the novel I want to write, Steinbeck would be proud at the bleakness and negativity.  And I really don’t always want to be bleak, it’s just what comes out.  I’m having a hard time striking a balance, and a mood that will carry from one day to the next.  Now, if a whole novel of just sex counts, then I’m pretty sure I can write way more than my allotted 2000 words.  That always cheers me up considerably, and accounts for a lot of the trashed prose.  But, I did intend to have a loose plot in there somewhere, so that’s not really going to satisfy me.

I’m glad I haven’t faltered on writing here, yet. I always sit down, not sure what I’m going to write.  Something is constantly coming out, even if I’m not wild about the blog post.  I think maybe this part of the project is more useful than the frustration of dealing with a novel.  Just reading my daily post and seeing how my emotions are swinging like a pendulum is proving to be a useful gauge.  I can step back and see exactly how uneven I am.  It helps me to be kind to myself, and more realistic.  While I absolutely believe I will achieve the things I truly want, and set out to accomplish, I’m trying to remember that I don’t have to try to do everything at once.

Just came off of my workout, and I’m already a minute behind on math class.  I’m pretty happy with how working out is going right now. I just finished my pushups, which totalled 24 in all.  It has been hard to push myself and know I’m making progress; I get so pissed at myself for being a weenie.  Plus, I tend to have a crying fit after the endorphin rush passes, which feels awfully counter-productive.  It’s probably needed, though.  Holding on to my optimism and feelings of power is important to me right now, and working out keeps that flowing through my veins.  So I need to look at the big picture again.

This time last year I couldn’t do a SINGLE half-pushup.  And in 1999, I couldn’t even lift my left hand above shoulder level because of the nice combination of cervical neuritis, frozen shoulder, and whiplash I was diagnosed with.  Oh, I think somebody said fibromyalgia in there, too.  I was supposed to be popping pain pills the rest of my life, take that suckers!!  And in 1989, I was cutting gym class and hiding in the band trailer.  I remember specifically getting demerits for riding to a football game in a car with an unlicensed 15 year old, and not being able to do the pushups and laughing at my Band Director.  So, that means that effectively I’m in better shape in some ways than I was at age 13.  Actually, in almost all ways, really.  Probably my body fat percentage was better then, but otherwise, I can go faster and longer and lift more stuff.

I’m screaming by the end of my pushups and situps now.  But I’ve quit hurting for days afterwards, and random strangers keep telling me I’ve lost weight.  I haven’t lost much, maybe ten pounds. I should probably get a new scale. My new jeans I bought that were skin tight two months ago are comfy and a bit baggy.   It’s tough.  Change is coming in tiny increments.  And no one’s gonna stop me.

Back to school has been going pretty decently, but now I’ve decided to kick things up a notch or three.  I keep telling you all I neglect the writing portion.  I suspect that, as usual, that’s because I have something I really want to say and am avoiding the real clarity writing can give.

Earlier this fall, Chris asked if I wanted to participate in NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month.  I have always scoffed at NaNoWriMo, because every year tens of thousands of people sign up to write stuff and just don’t.  Or they do, and flood publishers with crappy drafts of novels that mean that good novels don’t see the light of day.  Or any other number of cynical, jaded things that someone who once aspired to be a writer can think of to talk herself out of actually doing something.  So I almost laughed at him, but he was actually asking for moral support while he wrote this month.  I can’t laugh at that.  That boy has libraries of books inside him, waiting to be written.  He’s even got them all mapped out, if he’d just do it.

I, on the other hand, get hung up whenever I try to write anything big or fictional.  I get hung up on the whole story arc concept, and want to know what is happening ahead of time.  I get stressed out. I make characters I love and then don’t know what to do with them. I freeze.  Plus, today my neck decided that the old injury would flare up, and I spent a large part of the day in bed.  And why did they choose this month for these things anyway?!  Aaah.  I guess December would be slightly more challenging, but not by much. Plus, other excuses.  Lots of them.

So, when Heather blogged today about NaBloPoMo (National Blog Post Month) I immediately thought, Yay, compromise! The idea of nablopomo is based on NaNoWriMo, but isn’t really restricted to only November.  But I think I can commit to a blog post a day, though Thanksgiving week is kind of iffy, being at Granny’s and having company in from out of town.  May have to do a few in advance, or just write something very short and sweet for those days.  So in other ways, it’s even more of a commitment, because I’m not going to be given any slacker time.

The short of the story is that I’m tentatively committing to both.  After all, can’t you tell I’m bristling with self-confidence?  Might as well.

Thanks to LightBringer for commenting on my blog!  The email I got for the comment reminded me to come post something or another.  I hadn’t forgotten the blog was here, exactly, more like just tucked it into the recesses of my brain.  It’s just weird.  I had these intentions and ideas and the blog is nothing like I thought it would be.  But then again, I didn’t expect things would be like this.

This week is Lauren’s birthday.  I’m unhappy about that, of course.  Sad and heartbroken.  I feel like posting here when I’m sad is torturous sometimes though.  It’s good and cathartic at the time, and then I come out here and go, Oh, yeah, I spilled my guts out here last time, how do I recover from that? I guess it’s just part and parcel of having a blog, but I really hadn’t gotten the hang of it just yet this June. Part of my new schedule does involve writing, though.  And I’m meaning to do it extemporaneously from now on, so that there’s less worry.  Have I said that before?  I’m not sure.  I’m kind of fuzzy in the brain lately.  Anyway, I don’t want to spend any more than 15 minutes on a post, and whatever comes out, comes out.  That way I don’t overthink and agonize, and I’ve got a fairly honest history in front of me if I ever go back.

I am really living out what I intended, though, in case anyone’s wondering.  I will admit that I’m having a few hiccups with keeping on schedule.  Writing is the part I tend to blow off the most.  I have been chugging away at the math, and I feel pretty good about being able to pass any Algebra II class at this point.  That might not seem like much, but I have taken my time building a base and making sure I’m solid before moving.  I’m really becoming more confident in my ability to reabsorb this stuff!

I’ve also been binging on music.  I think that’s where a lot of the writing time is going. I crank up something obnoxiously loud and jump in circles and dance, often half naked because hey, the kids aren’t home so why not?  Too much information?  Probably.  But it’s been so good!  Maybe I should just have a ‘creative expression’ phase of my self-improvement.

I feel like some kind of mental patient who should be institutionalized when I talk about myself this way!  Which is fine, if I am, but I don’t think I am, which makes it all the harder!  I don’t know which way’s up, really.  I feel overwhelming surges of power and focus, and  I want to move and shake and build things and climb mountains and slay dragons, but then I have times when I have to pull over and gasp for breath and call out for help because I’m just ravaged with emotion.  I don’t want to be self-indulgent, and I have Big Plans that I need to work on.  Everyone says one foot in front of the other, but I want to skip all this character building crap, honestly.

Anyway, I’m really truly doing something, right now, even if I’m sporadic at best out here. Going places that I’ve never been, seeing things that I may never see again.